


Code Magic

by lostinmyself



Category: Code Geass, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Gen, Lelouch decimating canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29615205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinmyself/pseuds/lostinmyself
Summary: When the Lestranges were sent to Azkaban, they left behind a baby - the son of Bellatrix and Rodolphus.Lelouch Lestrange is quiet and unassuming - as much as possible for a tactical genius who had conquered the world once, anyway.The board is set, and neither Dumbledore nor Voldemort have the slightest idea what they're up against.
Comments: 113
Kudos: 128





	1. Chapter 1

The days that followed Lord Voldemort's downfall at the hands of baby Harry Potter were, in Bartemius Crouch's opinion, absolute chaos. Wizards and witches paraded about in brightly colored robes in full view of Muggles, celebrated wherever and however they pleased and any attempts at hiding their indiscreet behaviors were met with indignant yelling that resulted in even more unwanted attention.

Worse by far, of course, were the despicable actions of leaderless death eaters. Hours after the Potters were killed, their betrayer, Sirius Black, killed thirteen Muggles and a wizard in broad daylight. Numerous other incidents took place, though there were no more fatalities.

All of these took a backseat to Bartemius when the attack on the Longbottoms' occurred.

To think that his own son could have done such a thing... that he would use unforgivables on Aurors... shame the Crouch name so thoroughly...

He could not remember a time when he had been so thoroughly incensed. He drifted through the trial and sentencing in a red haze; his only priority was to make sure that the harshest punishment had been doled out to the criminals. His wife wept and begged for him to reconsider, even long after it had become clear he would not budge. He tried to tune her out completely, but it was still a relief when a young ministry worker - he couldn't place his name - approached him hesitantly and provided him with a distraction.

"Yes?"

"Sir, if I may... what should be done about the Lestrange boy?"

"What boy?" he barked, his mood immediately souring further.

"The baby, sir. I think they called him Lelouch? He's about one."

Ah, yes, he vaguely remembered hearing about a Bellatrix spawn. "I don't see what need there is to fuss about two death eaters' offspring. Give him to an orphanage."

"Should we... maybe... conceal his heritage, sir?"

"That he's a Lestrange?" Bartemius grimaced in distaste. "Of course not. And make sure the child is never adopted. Let's see how his parents like it when their own son has to grow up alone."

The young man looked very pale. "But... Sir..."

"Did I stutter?" he snarled.

The man wilted. "I'll...I'll see to it, sir."

* * *

_Ten years later:_

  
"Checkmate."

There were an assortment of groans from around the table. "How the hell... you must've cheated!"

"I don't see how I could have, with your supporters surrounding us as they are," the winner said calmly. "Now, seeing as the odds were ten to one, I believe you owe me five thousand pounds."

"I can just have you turned in for underage gambling," the man threatened.

"You could, I'm sure. However, that would also mean outing yourself as an illegal gambler. You wouldn't want that, would you? Especially considering your family reputation."

"You son of a bitch."

There were loud murmurs of disapproval around the table at this. The winner, however, only smiled.

"Not the first time I've been called that. The money, please."

Grudgingly, the man fished out the wad of cash and handed it over. His opponent took it, swept a dramatic bow at no direction in particular, and left the room, leaving the aristocrat stewing on the fact that he had just been beaten by a thirteen-year-old.

* * *

Lelouch Lestrange slipped quietly into his room through his window, pulled the hood off his head and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. In moments, his features transformed, his facial structure reverting to that of a child not older than eleven. After giving himself a quick lookover in the mirror, his violet eyes shifted to the worn-looking clock on the wall. It was fifteen past two in the morning.

Sighing quietly, he kicked off his high heeled shoes before laying down on his bed, messaging his soles against each other with a little grimace. It was a shame that his metamorphosis ability did not extend to changing his body shape. Thirteen was the oldest he could make himself believably look when his height remained unchanged.

Lelouch had performed his first spell at six years of age. Not his first bout of magic, mind. His first accidental burst of magic had come years earlier, after which he had started focusing on learning to control his power to suit his needs. It was an intriguing experience - testing the range of his abilities without any guidelines whatsoever.

It wasn't that he had seen no one else with the same ability. That had been... a whole other can of worms. When he was seven years and three months old, he had once found himself sitting on a park bench near King's Cross station, unable to remember an hour of his life. It had nearly sent him into hysteria. After calming down somewhat, he had revisited his memories, concluding that, as incredible as it sounded, one hour of his memory had been erased. The last thing he remembered was entering King's Cross in pursuit of a cat that he had been quite sure was reading a road sign.

He had gone back to the station after that, many times, but had found nothing amiss. And then, after a year on the exact same date - September 1st - his efforts had paid off as he concealed himself in a crowd and watched people walk into and seemingly through a wall between the 9th and 10th platforms. He had also seen firsthand the casting of the spell that had to have erased his memories.

 _Obliviate_. How unoriginal.

More intriguing had been the devices used to perform the spell. Wooden sticks, referred to as 'wands'. Apparently, all children with magical abilities were allowed one when they were eleven and accepted into 'Hogwarts' - a magical school, presumably.

It was quite interesting, and a little alarming, the amount of information one could find on these 'wizards' and 'witches' by simply observing them for one morning.

Not that he had been content with a few hours. No, he had gone back every year on the first of September and the end of June(there seemed to be a bit of variance on when school ended) and gathered as much information as he could. He knew non-magical people were called 'muggles'. He knew there were racial prejudices concerning how much magical ancestry the children had. He supposed that would make him a 'mudblood', the term for muggle-born people that were so deregatory it had resulted in the speaker's parents shushing the girl frantically while glancing around in panic.

And he knew his Hogwarts letter would arrive tomorrow. Or technically today, as it was past twelve o'clock. His eleventh birthday. Physically, anyway.

Lying back on his bed with his hands behind his head, Lelouch stared at the ceiling for a few moments, wondering if dreams would plague him tonight. Visions of towering mobile war machinery, flowing pink, red, purple hair splattered with blood, a sword impaling him through the heart - 

Wide violet eyes set in a delicate face framed by long sandy hair, wet with tears as a soft hand grasped his, anchoring him until his lifeforce drained out.

Nunnally. His little sister. The person for whom, in his visions, he had fought, destroyed and then saved the world.

He breathed out slowly and closed his eyes. He had been waiting for this day for three years. No matter how much his brain wanted to rebel, he needed to rest tonight. Breathing in a steady pattern, he removed all thoughts of that other world from his head, forcing his mind into a blank state as he focused only on the motions of his chest rising and falling.

Sleep came not long afterwards.


	2. Chapter 2

At the first chime of the alarm clock, Lelouch's eyes flickered open. Getting out of bed with the practiced ease of someone used to little sleep, he pulled out his clothes for the day(white shirt and grey slacks) and headed for the shared bathroom at the end of the corridor. It was barely past sunrise, which meant that he managed to finish his morning routines before anyone else had even woken up.

It was a big day, after all. Some part of the wizardring world would form its first impression of him. But before it did, he wanted to form some more impressions of them.

Lelouch walked to the empty patch of land in front of the building that served as their playground. Once there, he went straight to the basketball hoop and began practicing.

As expected, he was horrible at it. Even if he hadn't had the height of a preteen, the exertion was quickly becoming too much for his frail body. But that was fine; the reason for him playing basketball today had absolutely nothing to do with the sport itself.

This place had the best view of the outer walls. Namely, if someone wanted to observe him before making contact, this would be the best place to observe them back.

There was no one there, just a stray cat perched rigidly on the section of the wall nearest to the makeshift court.

Lelouch's eyes narrowed at the hoop above him. To anyone watching, it would look like frustration at his failings. Inward, his mind was working a mile a minute.

The cat had been there when he had looked out of his window after waking up, only then it was near his room, about fifty yards from here. And there was one other irregularity that stood out to him.

The guard dog was silent.

Come to think of it, he hadn't heard it bark at all last night, which was an extremely unusual occurrence. On top of that, the mutt was particularly fond of chasing cats.

All this added up to a conclusion he didn't like at all.

If the cat did, in fact, have some magical connection, it would perfectly explain why the dog was not bothering it. Unfortunately that also meant that if the animal was observing him somehow, it had been doing so since last night. More likely than not, it had seen him sneak into his room yesterday, which would now leave him open to a lot of scrutiny.

To top it off, there was nothing he could do about it, except to... wait a second...

Lelouch pulled out a small mirror from his pocket, making a show of fixing his hair while keeping the cat firmly in focus. He scrutinized its appearance, matching them to his memory and stopping only when he managed to make out the rectangular marks around its eyes.

He smiled. _Bingo._

* * *

Professor Minerva McGonagall kept steady pace with the young man leading her to the Director's office. She was not looking forward to her task, but that didn't mean she was going to shirk her duty in any way.

When the assignments were given out to the professors, almost everyone had hoped that their charge would be Harry Potter. And she for one, had a very good reason for doing so - she had always hated the fact that the boy was left in the care of incredibly bigoted muggles and would have loved to check up on him.

Instead, she had gotten the Lestrange boy, the assignment everyone had hoped to avoid. Well, perhaps not Severus. One could never tell with that man.

She had made up her mind right then and there; if she was going to do this, she would do it thoroughly. And that was why she had arrived in town a day earlier and came to the orphanage as soon as she could, which was very late in the night, to check the security of the place and assure herself of the boy's well-being.

Instead, she had found his room empty, and after half an hour of waiting, had seen the boy sneaking into his room past two in the morning. She wouldn't have been able to tell it was the Lestrange boy, hooded as he was, if she hadn't known which room was his.

This was absolutely horrible. Not even a student and already engaged in shady dealings.

Strange, though, when she had checked his room during breakfast time, she had found nothing out of place. Everything there were the typical belongings of a preteen, strewn about in the typical way of a preteen.

No matter. She would find a way to get it out of him.

To her surprise, Minerva found that the director of the orphanage held Lelouch Lestrange in positive regards and not as a troublemaker. His only complaint was that the boy was complacent. Apparently, despite being rather average in class, all of the teachers were unanimous in their opinion that the boy just didn't apply himself enough. His grades were not bad, but they all believed Lestrange was capable of much more.

"He gets along well with pretty much everyone here," said the man, a Mr. Henry Burkle, smiling in a forced way that suggested he was trying to paint his charge in an impressive light to her. "He has a way with people. He's involved in most of our event organizations."

So, a social but average boy? Minerva felt a little blindsided. That was not how she had imagined this child. Then again, there was the nightly excursions - oh, who was she kidding? She had only seen him the one time, and this being the boy's birthday, it was extremely probable that he had spent the midnight having fun with some friend in town.

_Illegal fun?_

Well, she was about to find out. They stopped in front of Lestrange's door, and the director knocked. "Lelouch? You have a visitor."

"Come in," came the response. Minerva entered to find the boy sitting at his desk, his back to them, reading a novel that he was now marking and setting aside.

As Mr. Burkle closed the door, Lelouch Lestrange stood and offered the chair to her with a polite smile and a "Please."

His manners were quite good for a child, she would give him that. The boy sat on the bed and she took the chair, before cutting straight to business. "Mr. Lestrange, I am here to offer you a place at a very prestigious boarding school. It cultivates the sort of particular talent you have shown from a very young age."

The child frowned. "Like what?"

"Like the ability to set a fallen log on fire from fifty yards away." This had been something Mr. Burkle had told her in an attempt to endear her to the boy. He had framed it as a power fantasy of an imaginative five years old.

"It was the summer heat, that's what they said," said Lestrange, shrugging. His black hair was a bit too long and messy, covering most of his eyes, and she didn't like that she couldn't discern his expression.

"Can you think of no other incidents like this? Nothing that you did purposefully?" Surely a child could not get past the walls of the orphanage without magical aid. She hadn't even noticed how he had done it at night - she had just seen him climbing through the window of his room.

She knew her eyes were hard, because Lestrange fidgeted a little. _Come now, admit it,_ she thought. She had handled enough children to know that when they were biting their lips in nervousness, they were about to confess. Or at least, they would if they took one look at her expression.

The boy lowered his head and brushed the fringes out of his eyes. "I found myself wandering in a park near King's Cross when I was seven. Didn't know how I got there."

His head lifted, violet eyes meeting her gaze, and Minerva's heart skipped a beat.

She knew this boy.

She had obliviated this boy, the smallest child she had ever used a spell on. He had seen her transform near King's Cross station four terms ago. The terrified gaze on finding himself at the end of her wand, followed by the vacant look as the spell did its work - those were not expressions she would soon forget.

And now, she knew that he had not been a muggle at all. The whole thing had been an exercise in unnecessary cruelty.

"It took me hours to find my way back. I was grounded for a month," Lelouch was saying, his eyes downcast again. "It was pretty horrible."

Minerva was thankful he wasn't looking at her. She could only imagine what her face looked like.

"I suppose that also counts," she said, recovering her composure with herculean effort. There was no way she would try to get any more 'experiences' out of him after this. "Mr. Lestrange, you have magical capabilities. Being male, our society would refer to you as a 'wizard'."

"Your society? A magical society? Here in England?"

Not exactly the point she had thought he would focus on. "There are thousands of us," she said, nodding.

The boy's eyes shone with delight, and her spirits lifted. "What can you do with magic?"

Minerva smiled back, a small upward curl of her lips. She pulled out her wand and aimed it at the book on the table. With a little flick, it transformed into a bird.

Lelouch yelped in surprise, his eyes popping, and Minerva's smile widened. "This is called Transfiguration magic. I teach the subject at the school."

"Is that bird - alive?" Lelouch said softly. He looked a bit shaken, and she hastened to reassure him, feeling glad at the same time that the boy cared enough to ask.

"No, of course not. Magic cannot give life, Mr. Lestrange."

Something flashed in the boy's eyes, gone too quickly to decipher. "Can wizards turn into birds?"

She had to admit to being impressed. "Very good question. Turning oneself into an animal is possible, but it requires years of hard and risky work, and doing so without ministry approved supervision is a punishable offense."

"You have laws about magic?"

"Indeed we do."

"What happens if you break them? Do you get sent to jail?"

The images of two faces grinning maniacally at her from the Daily Prophet filled her head, accompanied by jingling chains around their wrists. "Sometimes. Wizardring prisons are terrible things, Mr. Lestrange. Let's not discuss them today."

The boy conceded immediately, to her relief. "Can I see the letter?"

How very unprofessional of her. Minerva fought a flush as she handed the envelope to Lelouch. He deftly broke the seal and read the letter, eyes skimming across it several times, his smile growing with each repetition. Then he moved on to the list of required supplies, pleasantly surprising her yet again. Not many students had retained enough presence of mind to read through the long shopping list immediately after finding out that they would study magic.

After a few minutes, Lelouch folded the papers, placed them neatly back in the envelope, and set it on the table. "Are you going to take me to buy my school supplies?"

She would have liked to, but -

"I'm afraid I have urgent matters requiring my attention. That said, if you give me a preferred date, I'm sure I can find someone to assist you."

The boy did not seem daunted by that. "Any day of this week should be fine, professor."

"I shall let you know, then." She rose. There was something nagging at her, something crucial that seemed to be... missing? "I'll see you at Hogwarts on September first."

Lelouch smiled. "I look forward to it, professor."

It was only when she was back in the sunny streets of London that Minerva realized what was bothering her.

Lelouch Lestrange had not asked a single question about his parents.


	3. Chapter 3

It was one day later that Professor McGonagall’s letter arrived at the orphanage. Taking the speed of the mail system into account, she had to have sent it on the same day as their meeting. The deputy headmistress was clearly efficient, not that Lelouch hadn’t already gathered as much from their brief conversation.

And she hadn’t sent an owl, which was already showing more common sense than most wizards or witches he had observed thus far.

True to her words, a Professor Severus Snape arrived to escort him to the wizardring market in London.

The man intrigued him, in a way Professor McGonagall hadn’t. He clearly knew more about the muggle world than the other professor, for example, choosing to wear a long dark coat that made him blend in rather than stand out. He was much younger, too, probably only in his early to mid-thirties, but the hard lines etched onto his face suggested those years had not been kind to him.

But the most glaring difference, and the most interesting one, was that Professor Snape realized when he was being observed.

As soon as he came into view, the man scanned the windows of the building and his gaze fixated on Lelouch, casually watching the street with his chin propped up on one hand. After a brief second, he gave a little nod of acknowledgement, before turning away and heading for the gates to the orphanage.

Lelouch turned away from the window, smiling. He picked up the bag he had ready, empty except for the little amount of cash he had gotten from helping out around the neighborhood. The other money… well, he couldn’t exactly explain how a preteen owned a small fortune, could he?

Professor Snape entered Lelouch’s room after only a few minutes.

“Mr. Lestrange,” he greeted.

“Morning, professor,” Lelouch returned simply, getting to his feet. For all the differences with the other professor, the no-nonsense attitude was uncannily similar, and judging by the way the frown lines smoothed out somewhat, Lelouch gathered that the man approved of his demeanor.

“Do you have everything you need?”

“Yes, sir. I don’t have much money, but Professor McGonagall mentioned in her letter that you would bring the necessary amount?”

“Yes.” The man eyed him for a moment. “Come along, then.”

The deputy headmistress had been concise in her words: Hogwarts provided funds for students who couldn’t support themselves. Lelouch actually felt a little guilty about taking advantage of that system when he had no need of it.

They used the public bus to arrive at the entrance to Diagon Alley, a pub called the Leaky Cauldron. To be honest, Lelouch had hoped for a magical method of travel, but knew better than to show his disappointment. Once inside the pub, professor Snape flicked his wand and his coat immediately transformed into voluminous black robes.

Simple but practical use of magic. Lelouch made a mental note to learn that one.

The security system of Diagon Alley was actually a better measure than everything else he had seen from wizards, but he had little time to ponder on that once the wall opened up.

He could practically _taste_ the magic in that place. There were so many different shops of so many different magical items that he hardly knew where to begin. Looking past the ridiculously bright outfits, Lelouch took in the wand shop, the joke shop, the newspaper stands with the _moving_ photos, the pet shop, and some strange shop called the Quality Quidditch Supplies.

“I suppose we can begin with the first letter of the alphabet,” he said.

“You do not need supplies from there,” came the response, tone carefully neutral.

“I thought it would be a good idea considering present company.”

Lelouch looked up in time to catch the fleeting upward curl of the professor’s lips. “Not a bad choice,” the man conceded, then swept into the apothecary.

In the hour that followed, Lelouch was given a glimpse of his teacher’s absolute mastery over his subject. When they walked out, he was quite sure they had covered the ingredients needed for the entire first year curriculum… and then some.

It was a good thing his memory was as accurate as it was, because the man proceeded to quiz him during their visits to the clothes shop and the bookstore. And if the gleam in his dark eyes were anything to go by, he was impressed with the result, until…

“Wrong answer.”

“Sorry, sir,” said Lelouch.

“Are you?”

His eyes were glittering strangely, and Lelouch’s eyes widened. How did he know… no one had ever caught him in a lie.

“Try again. Where do you look if I ask you to find me a bezoar?”

Lelouch considered how to answer. Should he give another wrong answer? Or should he reveal that he had known the correct one? Because from the look on the man’s face, he knew it perfectly well.

So why did he look almost… gleeful?

What was he really asking him to try? Try telling the truth, or…

“A unicorn, sir,” he said with a perfectly straight face.

Professor Snape raised his eyebrows. “Well done.”

He strode out of the clothes store, leaving Lelouch scrambling to catch up. That man didn’t just get to walk away after something like that!

And damn his short legs!

“How could you tell?” he asked as he finally caught up to professor Snape at the books store. In response, the man handed him a book from the shelf.

He read the title. _Guide to Advanced Occlumency._

Occlude - to obstruct. And in relation to what had just happened…

“Advanced?” Lelouch said breathlessly, looking up at the professor.

“In response to your earlier question… I couldn’t. At least, not the second time.”

He honestly didn’t know if he was more elated or apprehensive. Mind reading was not too much of a stretch after witnessing memory modification, but it still filled him with dread. His mind had always been his greatest asset.

But now he also knew he possessed a natural ability to protect it, and that lifted his spirits.

“You cleared your mind of all thoughts and emotions,” said Professor Snape, watching him intently. “That is masterful occlumency, but only when it comes to the basic use. There are other ways. More advanced ones, if you will.”

“How good are you at invading minds?” Lelouch hated that he didn’t know the exact term.

The man smirked. “Very.”

Lelouch processed that, and an identical smirk spread across his own face.

* * *

The shopping itself was positively dull in comparison to that revelation. So, as they finished purchasing the books(secondhand) and headed into the wand shop, Lelouch met Professor Snape’s gaze and said, lightly, “I’m so excited about the Quidditch thing, sir.”

The man’s cheek twitched, as if he was fighting a smile. “I can see that.”

Occlumency score: Two. Also, the professor appreciated his sense of humor. Always a bonus.

Time to make it more challenging.

The shop owner, Mr. Olivander, greeted him with ‘Ah, I still remember when-’ before quelling under Professor Snape’s stare. Lelouch filed that one away in his mind; it did nothing but to strengthen a theory he had already formed, and that one he could investigate later. For now, as the man handed him the first wand to test, he looked at Professor Snape and said, “I feel like this is the wand for me.”

“Not this one,” said Snape.

“Definitely not,” agreed Olivander.

Lelouch breathed in slowly, feeling the thrill of a new test for his abilities. This one was a work in progress, then - Snape could tell he didn’t feel a connection with his wand. That was why he had chosen it; searching for the magical connection with the wand in his hand meant that he couldn’t rid his brain of thoughts completely.

So he had to _hide_ them.

He grabbed the second wand and repeated the exact words in the exact same way. “I feel like this is the wand for me.”

“You’re wrong,” said Snape.

He repeated the same procedure with the third one.

“Wrong.”

Fourth one.

“Wrong.”

Fifth. Sixth. Seventh.

“Wrong.” “Wrong.” “Wrong.”

Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.

“Wrong.” “Wrong.” “Wrong.”

As he took the eighteenth wand (13 inch, dragon heartstring, unyielding), a strange, comforting warmth enveloped his body, and it was evident to everyone present, not just him, that this was the correct wand.

And yet…

“Wrong,” said Snape, sounding astonished.

Lelouch smiled, slow and ominous.

* * *

“That was impressive, and I do not use that word lightly.”

“Thank you, professor,” Lelouch said, inspecting his newly-purchased wand. He had already gotten over the rush of his brief, undiluted moment of triumph. “What do you think of Mr. Ollivander’s words?”

They were back at the Leaky Cauldron, sitting at a corner table and away from the bustle.

“Yew is mostly notorious due to its last owner,” said Professor Snape. “It just so happens that dark wizards and witches tend to be more famous than their counterparts.”

_Equal capacity for good and evil. Doesn’t that sound familiar._

“Do you think I’m evil, professor?”

If the man was bothered by the question, he didn’t show it. “You are eleven years old.”

“With all due respect, that wasn’t an answer, sir.”

“Why the question?”

Lelouch smiled darkly. “My parents weren’t muggles, were they, professor?”

Professor Snape’s eyes widened.

“I’d have to be blind not to notice the reactions every time you introduced me to someone. I don’t know any of these people. It was a simple conclusion.”

The man shook his head slowly, looking positively amazed. “Not to the overwhelming majority of the population. In any case, I suppose then it’s only fair to tell you about-”

“No.”

“No?” the professor repeated.

“I’ll form my own conclusions.” In truth, he couldn’t care less about them except to find out how they affected his reputation. He didn’t know where his apathy towards parental figures had come from, but he suspected his dreams had something to do with it. “If they are as famous as they seem, it can’t be difficult. But I didn’t ask about my parents, sir. I asked about myself.”

“And why are you asking _me_ this?”

Lelouch shrugged. “Because you happen to be quite unpopular, for some reason.” At the telltale flush of anger, he held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I have no idea why, but I know better than to judge someone based on public opinions, and I believe you do, too.”

Professor Snape nodded slowly. "I don't believe in the concept of a person being inherently evil," he said. “And I certainly don’t believe a child can be one.”

Lelouch smiled slightly. “Thanks. As it happens, I agree.”

And while Professor Severus Snape, terror of children and adults alike, returned the little smile, his mind was another story.

No, he did not believe Lelouch Lestrange, the most intelligent and charismatic child he had ever met, was what the masses liked to call ‘evil’. But if he did turn out to be so…then…

God help them.


	4. Chapter 4

Lelouch casually adjusted his jacket, running his hand over the inside pockets to confirm the reassuring weight of the bundles of cash inside. Maybe it was a little paranoid of him, but after using public transportation with ten thousand pounds on his person, he was pretty sure it was understandable.

He studied his reflection on the hood of a car before heading into the Leaky Cauldron. He was dark-skinned today, with closely-cropped black hair and bright brown eyes. He didn’t have to wear high-heeled shoes when commuting, which was a huge relief. After all, there was nothing wrong with being eleven for the first agenda he had in mind.

He slipped through the usual crowd in the pub and made his way to the entrance of Diagon Alley. Once there, he headed straight for Gringotts, taking a moment to revert his appearance before going inside. These goblins could definitely keep a secret from the wizardring community, but frankly, he didn’t trust _them,_ either.

Almost anyone could be corrupted with the right motive.

The currency exchange rate turned out to be a little better than the last time he had come here, and with very little fuss he deposited most of the newly acquired galleons into the bank account he had initially opened with the Hogwarts funds. That account had been steadily growing over the last month - he hadn’t dared bring all of his savings in one go.

With a little nod to the goblin who had escorted him to the vault and back, Lelouch walked out of Gringotts, disguising himself again before stuffing his hands into his pockets and heading down into the decidedly less colorful and somewhat dingy Knockturn Alley.

The White Wyvern, the only pub in the shady marketplace, was a place no respectable wizard or witch wanted to be seen in. Lelouch pulled on his high heeled shoes and one of the faceless masks bought from this marketplace before strolling in and making a beeline for the one occupied table with a card game going on.

One of the player groaned on seeing him. “Oh, great.”

Lelouch smirked behind his mask. They had never seen his face, but the faceless cover was becoming familiar around here. “As it happens, I’m not here to play.” His voice was deep, so as to give off the impression that he was merely a short person as opposed to a child.

“Oh,” said the man, with more cheer this time. “Great, I guess.”

“Can I borrow your dealer for a moment, gentlemen?” he asked the table at large.

“Lemme finish the round,” said the guy in question, waving a hand towards another table nearby. “Wait there.”

“That shouldn’t take much time,” said Lelouch, nodding at the dealer’s cards.

All of the other players exchanged looks at that. “So he’s got good cards, then?” one of them hedged.

“That’s got to be a bluff,” said another.

“That’s the thing,” said the first one. “He’s not playing, is he? Why would he bluff?”

Lelouch took a nearby chair and watched the game with detached interest. It was a foregone conclusion now, anyway.

The dealer raised. Everyone else folded.

“Not worth the risk,” someone muttered. And it wasn’t, considering no one else had bet anything more than a few knuts. Scowling, the dealer collected the coins and joined Lelouch.

“You could’ve waited a bit,” he said. “That could’ve been a haul.”

“What can I say?” said Lelouch. “I don’t like waiting.”

His contact grumbled something under his breath that sounded like “Might as well get you outta here” before lifting the medium-sized bag he was carrying onto the table.

“About a dozen varieties, and not just from England, like you said,” he said. “Cost your whole advance money and then some. Had to borrow in the end.”

“This should be enough to cover your debt,” said Lelouch, handing him the rest of the galleons he had converted.

“Yeah, and not much else,” grunted the man, eyeing the coins.

“You couldn’t pay me in Saturday’s game, Mr. Fletcher,” said Lelouch. “Be thankful I’m accepting your work as compensation.”

The man grunted and swept out of the pub, evidently uneasy about having so much money on him in a gambling place. In contrast, Lelouch grabbed the magically shrunken bag and headed into the back room, pausing only once at the bar to make sure that the room had really been reserved for him for the whole day.

He had ten years worth of homework to do.

* * *

Lelouch set aside _Le Cri de la Gargouille_ ** _,_** 31st December, 1981 issue,and glanced at the clock. Half past seven.

He had arrived at half past nine in the morning. No wonder his back ached as horribly as it did, even with the occasional pacing around the room when he had to mull over some piece of news in one of those newspaper articles.

He was glad that he had brought a notebook. It was almost halfway filled with bits of information, by now. Currently, his mind could focus on only one event, and he was quite irritated at himself for that - for being most disturbed by the Longbottom incident.

It would have made sense if he had been upset by the use of the Cruciatus spell. And he had been, actually. A spell designed only to inflict the maximum amount of torment, so much that it could destroy people’s minds, was the most horrifying thing possible to someone like him. But that wasn’t why; he had known that since the early 70s newspapers. No, as much as he hated to admit it, it was because he now knew his parents were full-blown monsters.

If there ever was a reason to label someone as pure evil, this would be it. The worst thing was how senseless it had been. Anyone with half a brain could figure out that the Longbottoms had not known where Lord Voldemort had been hiding. And he refused to believe _his_ parents had no brains.

No, they were just sadistic and remorseless.

And alive. In prison, but very much alive. He honestly didn’t know what to do with that information. He half hoped Azkaban was as bad as the newspapers had made it out to be and they had gone insane just like their victims.

The other half knew that would probably be too much to ask for. He did not entertain any notion that his parents being alive were a good thing. If Marianne couldn’t be redeemed, his parents certainly couldn’t be. It was simply too unlikely.

Lelouch sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. His thoughts were turning to his dreams again, merging them with his life events, and that was never a good sign. It was time to head back.

When he arrived back at the Leaky Cauldron, the pub was filled with noise, much more so than usual, and it took him a moment to realize that the chaos was actually centered around an extremely large man. Or, upon closer inspection, the boy around his age that was sticking close to the man’s side. He picked up a lot of ‘It’s Harry Potter!’ and ‘Bless my soul!’

The Boy Who Lived. The lightning shaped scar was unmistakable. And all these gushing… the boy’s reputation hadn’t diminished at all in these ten years. In fact, disappearing from the public eye might have even enhanced it.

Here was something to take his mind off things.

He waited for the boy to leave before asking the woman standing next to him, “What was all that about?”

The witch blinked at him. “Are you muggle-born?”

Rude. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Right, sorry,” she winced. “I’m not some bigot, honest. It’s just that… well, it’s Harry Potter. He’s the kid who defeated You-Know-Who… you do know who…?”

“Yeah, I know who,” said Lelouch, holding back an amused smile. “Wouldn’t he have been like one, though? How?”

“No one knows,” she said, sounding suitably dramatic. “But kid has to be something amazing at magic, right? How else?”

“He won’t need to be, though,” he said. “You-Know-Who’s dead, right?”

“Codswallop,” she said, with feeling. “You mark my words, he’s out there, somewhere, skulking. Nobody saw his body, you know?”

“If he’s out there, though,” he said, “Wouldn’t he, like, come after Harry Potter?”

She stared at him, thoroughly taken aback. “Well, I reckon Dumbledore could stop him,” she said, finally. “And Potter could finish him off properly, this time!”

“He’s a kid,” said Lelouch.

“Well, Potter’s done it once… and anyway, Hogwarts is as safe as you can be,” she said, suddenly seeming to realize that the boy she was talking to was definitely a Hogwarts student. “Dumbledore’s the greatest wizard in the world, and the professors are all really powerful, too… oh, look, there’s one of them…”

Lelouch followed her gaze to a young wizard wearing a turban. If he was powerful, he was certainly not doing a good job of acting the part. In fact, he looked scared to death, hurrying through the crowd with his head bowed and face ashen. “What’s he teach?”

“Defense against dark arts,” she said. “I think. He only got hired this year.”

Then her eyes suddenly sharpened. “Hey, kid, where are your parents?”

He was quite glad he hadn’t reverted to his original appearance. “They’re bringing the car around,” he said. “I’d better go, I guess.”

She stared after him with a frown as he left, but Lelouch knew when he had made a lasting impression, and this wasn’t one of those times.

The wizardring world seemed to have a lot of expectations from Harry Potter. This fit with how unreasonable the general population here seemed to be, but he himself was intrigued, truth be told. He didn’t believe for a second that Harry Potter had somehow fended off Lord Voldemort with some sort of feat of accidental magic. There had to be something else at play here, but what?

He hated that his brain couldn’t come up with any solutions. He blamed his meager knowledge of how magic worked. And in that case… he had a lot more studying to do.

* * *

In the weeks leading up to September 1st, Lelouch spent most of his time holed away in his room with his books. Some of them were history (he found Gellert Grindelwald much more fascinating than Lord Voldemort), some were about the boarding school(Hogwarts: A History covered most of the enchantments in place at the school, something he was sure to find useful at some point), and some were about magic.

He had never found studying at the orphanage particularly challenging, and actually found most of the subjects boring. But he had always tried to learn the things he would actually be able to use. Until now, that had resulted him being multilingual(useful when gambling with foreigners) and some math the school hadn’t taught them yet(statistics were greatly helpful in calculating probabilities). But pretty much everything that Hogwarts taught were useful, so he found himself working through his curriculum at a pace that sometimes surprised even himself. The Standard Book of Spells was intriguing, and he indulged his creative nature by coming up with unconventional ways each spell could be used. Transfiguration was helpful with his natural metamorphmagus abilities, and Charms was great for everyday situations, but the subject he gave the most attention to was Magical Theory.

After all, magic was such a vague term to describe these abilities. Learning spells were all well and good, but the little spells he had done before receiving his Hogwarts letter were made up, every one of them, before he had known a single incantation. Wands were tools, and so were the words for the spells. They were not the sources of these powers.

Both non-verbal and wordless magic turned out to be much more difficult than he had anticipated when it came to performing already well-known spells. In the end, he settled for singling out one spell and learning to cast it wordlessly and wandlessly. It alone consumed two weeks of his time and required more mental exertion than he had ever put himself through, but the results were rewarding enough that he did not stop.

Even with all these on his plate, however, there was one task in his daily schedule that he did not compromise for anything. Every evening, a copy of the Daily Prophet arrived at his desk that he read from top to bottom.

* * *

Morning of September 1st found Lelouch sitting alone at his desk, a chess board set up in front of him. The issue of 31th August lay open beside it, the open page showing an article about a Gringotts breach, another about speculation on the new DADA teacher, a picture of the Minister of Magic shaking Lucius Malfoy's hand, and lastly, a small piece on Albus Dumbledore, namely a history of the man's stellar academic performance and speculation on whether Harry Potter would finally dethrone him as the greatest student in living memory.

Lelouch was concentrating on the chessboard, lips turned down.

The white king stood perfectly protected at its starting place, guarded by a bishop and a rook. The white queen held the black king in check, and standing alone as it was, it had little chance.

And yet...

The black pawns were nearly across the board. The white king, while at the end and thus having a chance to stop them, were doing nothing, lulled into a false sense of security.

Mr. Burkle poked his head into his room. “Ready to go, Lelouch?”

“Yes, sir.” Lelouch closed his eyes for a moment, readying himself for his first field test of the wandless spell he had been working on, before lifting his head and meeting the man’s gaze. “I can go alone, don’t worry about escorting me. You can go home and prepare for your wife’s birthday.”

The man chuckled nervously. “That’d be great, actually… wait, how did you know it was Betty’s birthday?”

Lelouch shrugged. “I read your mind. Actually, just the one thought on the forefront of your mind. It’s the best I can do right now.”

Mr. Burkle stared at him in shock for a moment, and then burst into laughter. “Very funny,” he said. “You probably heard me talk about it, huh? Betty always does say I can’t keep a secret.”

Lelouch smiled but said nothing. Mr. Burkle left the room with a cheery wave.

Left alone, Lelouch turned his attention back to the board.

He played out the game methodically. The white king finally moved when a pawn managed to get one square away from the end, taking it out himself. But his own surrounding pieces were hindering him, and it wasn't long before there were too many black pawns at once to stop. They turned into queen, rooks and bishops. The black king was still being bothered by the white queen, but it kept dancing around as the other white pieces fell one by one. Finally, the black rook moved in and devoured the white queen. After that, the game was over in minutes.

The white king toppled, the small sound echoing in the silence.

Lelouch surveyed the board for a moment before speaking one word.

"Unacceptable."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually reply to every comment, but things at work have been so hectic that I've just decided to post this chapter first and respond to the comments later. But I thought it was necessary to address a concern some of you shared.
> 
> There's been some worries about Lelouch's use of wandless Legilimency in the last chapter, and I'd like to take a moment to assure you all that I'm not planning to make Lelouch proficient with wandless magic. I know it's practically unheard of in Harry Potter. The only reason Lelouch managed to learn that one spell wandless is because Legillimency is very often done with only eye contact in canon. Lelouch's biggest strength is his brain, as one reviewer pointed out, and I have every intention of keeping it that way.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter! It's much bigger than usual :-)

The Hogwarts Express was due to leave at 11 in the morning. Lelouch got onto it at 10:30, which left him nearly the entire train to pick a carriage from. He chose one close to the end, tucking away his luggage in a corner before settling on the window seat. From here, he could observe the building crowd.

He had never been to the inside of this station. It was… quite something, seeing the students and their guardians rushing around with animals, luggage and other whatnots, creating a cacophony of noise. And in this chaos, there were the little moments, a boy shoving off his mother’s hand when she tried to flatten his hair, two older girls rushing to embrace each other after probably a summer of only exchanging letters, a group of friends heartily congratulating two among them for what would probably be some sort of academic achievement.

Lelouch could admit to the ache in his chest as he watched them.

In a sea of unfamiliar faces, he could pick out Harry Potter as soon as he saw him, alone and apparently looking for a seat. How convenient. He waited. The train was mostly filled by now, after all.

Soon enough, the boy poked his head in. Seeing it occupied, he was about to leave, but Lelouch stopped him. “It’s okay, you can sit here.”

He received a relieved “Thanks,” before the head disappeared. A few moments later, he was back with a pair of ginger-haired twins helping him with his luggage.

Lelouch raised an eyebrow. He had levitated his - it was in the first year curriculum - and he wondered why these clearly older boys were not doing the same. Then again, not everyone had a physique as ridiculously fragile as his.

Before leaving, the twins spared a moment to gawk at Harry Potter’s scar. When they were left alone, the boy was looking ridiculously self-conscious. Lelouch had to smile.

“I’m Lelouch,” he said to break the awkwardness. “You must be Harry.”

“Hi,” said Harry, smiling back hesitantly. “You’re new to Hogwarts, right?”

“Yeah. New to the wizardring world in general, actually.”

This noticeably cheered up Harry, as he had expected. “Me too,” he said. “I only found out on my birthday.”

“You’ve been living with Muggles?”

“My aunt and uncle.” Lelouch caught a flash of a plump red face, scrunched in anger, before Harry looked away. “They were, uh…”

He had not expected the most famous boy in the wizardring world to live with abusive relatives. He felt a flare of protectiveness, born from years of dreaming about his little sister. “Horrible?”

“Yeah. Not that all muggles are, though. I’m sure your parents are great,” Harry said quickly.

Lelouch couldn’t hold back a snort. “I don’t remember them. I’ve been living in an orphanage since I was one.”

Harry winced, and he pretended not to notice as he went on. “The people working there are Muggles too, but they’re pretty decent. Who brought your letter?”

“Hagrid. He’s the gamekeeper at Hogwarts. Who’d you get?”

“Professor McGonagall.” At Harry’s suddenly furrowed brows, he prompted, “The one who writes the letters?”

“Oh, right,” said Harry, nodding. “I thought it sounded familiar. What’s she like?”

Lelouch thought about that question for a moment, imagining how she would seem to a normal student. One whom she hadn’t obliviated and who hadn’t used that incident to manipulate her in return. “Okay enough. Bit strict.”

Harry looked nervous again. “D’you reckon she’d-”

A redhead, about their age and the same height as Lelouch, peered in. “Excuse me, can I sit here? Everywhere else is full.”

Watching Harry wave the boy in, Lelouch felt a flash of amusement as he wondered what Harry had been about to say. What was he so afraid she would do? Eat them?

“I’m Ron Weasley,” the boy said, seating himself next to Harry. “You’re really Harry Potter?”

Lelouch rolled his eyes. Ron didn’t see it, but Harry did. His eyes widened and he barely choked back a laugh, settling for a smile instead.

“Yeah,” he said to Ron.

“I thought Fred and George might’ve been joking,” the redhead said as an explanation, his eyes lingering on Harry’s scar. “Is that where-”

“Yeah,” said Harry. “But I don’t really remember it.”

Lelouch’s regard of Harry rose - he was being a remarkably good sport about this.

But enough was enough, and when Ron started asking about the incident leading to the scar, Lelouch interrupted. “So, I’m guessing the twins are your brothers.”

The redhead started and turned to him. “Yeah. I’ve got six of them,” he said, a little gloomily. _Try having so many you don’t even bother keeping count,_ Lelouch thought. “And a sister. She’ll be starting Hogwarts next year.”

Sandy hair and violet eyes flashed in his mind. “Are all of your family wizards?”

“Yeah, I think so,” said Ron. “I think Mom’s got an accountant second cousin, but we don’t really talk about him.”

A so-called pure-blood family, then. He wondered why he hadn’t read anything about them.

“Sorry, didn’t catch your name,” said Ron.

“Lelouch,” he said, then held out a hand to shake. Ron accepted it with a smile.

“Are your parents Muggles?”

“I grew up in a Muggle orphanage,” Lelouch said by way of explanation. At Ron’s grimace, he said, “It’s not all that bad. The staff was nice.”

Ron nodded slowly. “If you say so. I’ve heard… things.”

“So did I,” said Harry. “But I didn’t really believe it, to be honest. They can’t all be bad.”

There was a moment of uneasy silence.

“So, Ron,” Lelouch said in a light tone, “Tell us about Hogwarts. Your brothers must’ve had a lot to say.”

Ron perked up. Lelouch had noticed that before - everyone loved this school. He knew better than to think that automatically meant a positive experience for him too, though. For one thing, not everyone had two Voldemort followers as their parents.

“Oh, Hogwarts is amazing, everyone knows that! The professors are great, too - mostly.”

Lelouch raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Any professor we need to watch out for?”

Ron hesitated for a moment. “There’s professor Snape,” he said finally. “Fred and George says he’s nasty. And Percy doesn’t yell at them for saying it, which just goes to show, doesn’t it? He’s the head of Slytherin. You know about the houses, right?”

He did, but he wasn’t going to pass up on the chance to find out what people really thought of them. Hogwarts: A History could only tell you so much. “Only bits.”

“I think Slytherin’s the house Voldemort was in?” Harry piped up, and Ron gasped.

“Leaving aside You-Know-Who,” Lelouch said pointedly, barely suppressing an annoyed sigh(It wasn’t Ron’s fault for growing up in a culture with ridiculous customs), “What about the other houses?”

“Oh, my whole family’s been in Gryffindor,” said Ron, distracted. “I really hope I’ll be there, but I guess Ravenclaw wouldn’t be bad. If I’m in Slytherin, though…”

Great. More prejudice. “You can’t change the world without being ambitious.”

Ron and Harry both stared at him. “What?”

Lelouch shrugged. “Just something I heard. What about Hufflepuff, though?”

“Eh?”

“If you’re sorted there?”

“Oh. I mean…” Ron shrugged his shoulders. “It’s kind of bland, from what I’ve heard. Still, it’s not Slytherin, at least.”

An entire house being thought of as evil didn’t sit well with him, but then again, he knew just how deep prejudices could run. “What would your family do if you’re in Slytherin?”

Ron shuddered. “I don’t even want to know,” he said. “I don’t even want to think about what _I_ would do. Where do you think you’ll be in?”

Lelouch smiled a little. “I guess I’ll have to wait to find out.”

He turned his head when a lady with a food trolley knocked on the door. They went over to investigate, and Harry bought a little of everything. On the other hand, Ron didn’t take anything, and that confirmed Lelouch’s suspicions that the Weasley family wasn’t exactly wealthy.

So he himself passed up on purchasing anything and headed back in empty-handed. Ron gave him a questioning look.

“I was going to, but then Harry bought a mountain,” Lelouch said with a smile. “He can’t possibly eat all of that, so I might as well help out.”

Harry laughed. “He’s not wrong,” he said. “Go on, Ron, have a pastry.”

With an appreciative look, Ron dug into the food, the conversation flowing easily as they divided up and started devouring the candies.

They were interrupted midway through by a round-faced boy panicking about his toad. Lelouch thought he looked familiar, but he didn’t think much of it until the boy came back a second time with a bushy-haired girl in tow. Actually, he was pretty sure the girl was the one who had dragged him in.

“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one.”

Lelouch’s stomach did a funny jolt. He stared at the boy, fully aware his eyes had widened. “You’re Neville?”

“Er… yes?” the boy said, looking perplexed. “Do I know you?”

Lelouch’s mind was frantically recalling the articles he had read about the Longbottoms. Only two had mentioned the surviving son, and only one had mentioned his name, but the family resemblance was unmistakable.

He had not expected this. Was there any way he could turn this situation into an advantage? He couldn’t think of anything, so he went for diversion. “Ron was about to do a spell, want to see?”

Ron, who had been about to try to turn his pet rat yellow before these two showed up, scowled at him.

“Oh, are you doing magic?” the girl exclaimed at Ron. “Let’s see it, then.”

And Ron failed, and Lelouch wasn’t surprised in the least. Ron’s wand looked ancient, and it couldn’t have possibly been bought for him. Even if the incantation had been an actual spell’s, he didn’t know how Ron could have pulled off a spell on the first try with a wand like that.

Neville was still standing awkwardly as the girl, Hermione Granger, started talking about all the background reading she had done and the spells she had learned. Lelouch introduced himself when she asked, again only mentioning his first name. They didn’t ask about his surname, and he breathed a little easier, but he only fully relaxed when they finally left.

Ron was clearly annoyed, and Lelouch couldn’t blame him as he made a comment about how he didn’t want to the be in the same house as the girl. He was pretty sure he knew both their types - Ron would be the classic backbencher, while Hermione would be one of those unpopular, dedicated students that read all the books and followed all the rules. Well, Lelouch supposed he had done the former, too, in this case.

The topic shifted to Ron’s brothers, and it turned out that the oldest one worked in Gringotts. Lelouch saw his chance and seized it.

“You know anything about the break-in?” he asked Ron.

“No, they couldn’t find out anything,” said the redhead. “But nothing was taken, so…”

“The vault was emptied on the same day, that’s what they said, right?” said Lelouch. He was talking to Ron, but his eyes were on Harry. “July 31st?”

The boy’s gaze snapped up and met his. _The giant - Hagrid. A goblin. A vault. Number-_

“July 31st?” Harry repeated.

“Yeah. It was a pretty high security vault, I think,” said Lelouch. _Come on…_

 _Gnarled finger running down a wall, splitting it in half. Flash to the top. 713_.

“It was a big thing,” said Ron, and Harry turned to the redhead as he began explaining how people tended to associate things like this with Lord Voldemort. Lelouch cursed his rudimentary knowledge of Legillimency - a wizard like Snape would have gotten all the information in no time!

“You’ve got to wonder what they were trying to steal,” he said, and Harry’s eyes snapped back to his.

_Giant hand picking up a little wrapped package, so small Harry could have fit it into his palm._

Lelouch smiled inwardly. It was a start, at least. _Thanks, Harry._

Satisfied that there was nothing more the other boy knew, he was easing into conversation again when the door opened and three more first years entered.

And of course, they were here for Harry Potter. This was quickly getting tedious.

The two muscular boys were apparently named Crabbe and Goyle… and the leader was Draco Malfoy. Lelouch scanned them as Draco Malfoy talked to Harry. All three of these boys’ fathers had been heavily accused of being Lord Voldemort’s followers - Death Eaters. They had eventually managed to convince the ministry that they had been coerced, that they were innocent.

But Lelouch had seen Lucius Malfoy in Knockturn Alley, buying objects enchanted with Dark Magic. Whatever these people were, they weren’t innocents.

At least Lucius Malfoy seemed to be subtle, though, a quality Draco Malfoy seemed to lack as he insulted everyone and their mother - literally. Ron and Harry got to their feet in rage, but Lelouch remained seated. This wasn’t his fight - yet.

But of course, it had to escalate.

The three intruders, rather than backing down, decided to egg them on and threaten to take their food.

So Lelouch intervened, because sitting still any longer would be seen as a weakness.

“Do any of you know any duelling spells?” he said, lazily. “Or do you just plan to scuffle like muggle wrestlers?”

The young Malfoy frowned at him. _So that would be a no to the former, then._ “And just who are you?”

“Someone who actually does know offensive spells,” said Lelouch. “And as it happens, I don’t feel like getting robbed today.”

Malfoy glared. “You’re bluffing.”

“Maybe. Or,” Lelouch stood in one smooth movement, pulled out his wand with a flourish and aimed it straight at the boy’s face. “Maybe not. Do you want to find out?”

The three of them looked at one another, then Malfoy muttered, “C’mon,” and they left the carriage.

“Wicked,” said Ron, looking impressed.

“Thanks.” Lelouch sat back down. “I know a coward when I see one. Are you going to eat that Chocolate Frog?”

“All yours,” said Harry, pushing it towards him with a smile. Lelouch took it and stuffed it into his pocket.

“Station’s coming up, I think,” he said by way of explanation. “Better get changed.”

In the short time before the train came to a stop, Hermione Granger reappeared once more to lecture them about all the noise, leaving Ron glaring after her. Lelouch was starting to feel a little bad for the girl - she certainly didn’t know how to get along with her peers. The way she conducted herself… he wouldn’t be surprised if she ended up friendless.

Then again, he would probably change that. She certainly seemed useful from what he’d seen of her. A lack of friends would only help him further in gaining her alliance.

He felt a little rotten for thinking that way, but shoved it aside. He knew what he was - there was no use in pretending he was a noble person. At least he would never try to worsen her situation, and a friendship would be beneficial for both of them.

* * *

Standing by the vast, dark lake, Lelouch had to admit - Hogwarts castle was an impressive sight. Ron and Harry seemed to agree, if their dropped jaws were any indication.

“No more ‘n four to a boat!” Hagrid’s voice boomed. The three of them made their way to one of the dinghies that lined the shore, and once every student was settled, the little vessels began moving forward.

It was eerily silent. The water was too still, and Lelouch wondered where the merpeoples that he had read about lived.

“There’s a giant squid living here,” said Ron, in a whisper. “George swears it attacked some first year’s boat once because they accidentally tickled its tentacles.”

“I wouldn’t put too much stock into what the rat-coloring expert says,” Lelouch informed him dryly.

Harry snickered as Ron made a face. “Good point.”

On the other side of the lake and at the entrance to the castle, they were received by Professor McGonagall. She led them to a set of double doors, gave them a short briefing on the Sorting Ceremony(Lelouch was quite sure that the houses were not viewed nearly as equally as her words suggested) before they were finally admitted into the Great Hall.

Adorned with thousands of candles, glittering banners and a bewitched ceiling reflecting the sky outside, Lelouch could see why his peers were staring in awestruck silence and craning their heads to take in everything.

He himself found the occupants far more interesting. The students sat in four long tables, each presumably belonging to one of the houses. This, in and of itself, was a recipe for breeding intra-house group mentality and inter-house competition. Then again, the points system professor McGonagall had explained ought to have been more than enough for that.

The sorting ceremony turned out to be simply going forward once called and trying on a hat. A singing hat, which was curious, but not of much use. He wondered why Godric Gryffindor had bothered - but if the song was something the hat was making up, it suggested some sort of mockery of sentience.

And he wasn’t comfortable with that at all.

“Abbott, Hannah!”

The girl walked to the stool and pulled on the hat, and a few moments later, it shouted, “Hufflepuff!”

One of the tables burst into applause. Lelouch frowned slightly. The hat couldn’t possibly be using… or could it?

He supposed he would find out. He turned his gaze to the teachers’ table. Albus Dumbledore was immediately recognizable, wearing colorful robes that sparkled under the candlelight. He had his head tilted to one side as he smiled and nodded at something a woman in a large hat was saying to him.

“Crabbe, Vincent!” Professor McGonagall was calling.

“Slytherin!”

A few seats further, he could see Professor Quirrell, talking to Professor Snape - and of course the latter was now looking back at him. Lelouch nodded his head almost imperceptibly, and received a similar acknowledgement.

“Granger, Hermione!”

“Gryffindor!”

That had taken some time, Lelouch noted, even as Ron groaned next to him. He was a little surprised - he had assumed she would be a Ravenclaw. Then again, humans were _always_ complex creatures, and thinking he could tell her house after a first meeting had probably been very arrogant of him.

“Jones, Megan!”

“Hufflepuff!”

There were a lot of Hufflepuffs, weren’t there? Of course, it was probably because of-

“Lestrange, Lelouch!”

Whispers broke out, and he caught a glimpse of Draco Malfoy and his lackeys’ slack-jawed expressions, but none of those reactions were quite as telling as Ron’s horrified gasp next to him. Unsurprised but still a little disappointed, he spared the redhead a passing glance, also taking in Harry’s confused expression at the latter’s reaction, before disengaging from the crowd and walking towards the stool.

Up close, he could see that Professor McGonagall had a slightly unnerved expression. Behind her, Professor Snape had straightened, staring intently with his hands folded on the tabletop. But the most surprising was Albus Dumbledore - having been smiling widely just a moment before, his face had now turned strangely unreadable, and for the first time he seemed to have his entire attention on the sorting.

The staff had been talking, Lelouch surmised as he took the hat from the previous student, adjusted it over his head so that it didn’t cover his eyes, and waited.

And waited.

After what had to be about thirty seconds, the hat spoke to him, and it sounded extremely irritated.

“Do you mind?”

Lelouch stopped the sudden laughter bubbling up in his throat. “Something the matter?”

“You know what the matter is!” He hadn’t thought it was possible for a hat to sound petulant.

“Surely my rudimentary prowess isn’t too much for Godric Gryffindor’s masterpiece.” He managed to make his mental voice sound mild.

“First years don’t tend to have occlumency shields at all,” the hat informed him, miffed. “Now, if you don’t want to become a hatstall-”

“I’m quite sure you already know which house I belong to,” Lelouch commented.

“And I’m sure you don’t want to become a Hufflepuff.”

Lelouch snorted. “Was that a threat? Are you certain you want to do that?”

There was a moment of silence. “I don’t see why you’re being difficult,” the hat told him, abandoning its previous approach. _Good._ “If it’s about privacy, you can be certain I will not reveal anything in your head.”

Lelouch narrowed his eyes. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

“I sorted Lord Voldemort, didn’t I?”

“Touché.” After a few moments of thought, Lelouch dropped his shields.

“SLYTHERIN!”

That was abrupt. “Couldn’t wait to get rid of me, could you,” he smugly thought to the hat, before pulling it off and handing it to Professor McGonagall amid loud cheers from the Slytherin table.

His good mood evaporated at the sight of her pale face. Professor Dumbledore looked grave, and Hagrid the gamekeeper was looking, for lack of a better word, disgusted. The other expressions as a whole ranged from mildly to extremely wary; Snape was the only one who looked even remotely pleased. But all of these hostile reactions paled in contrast to the next student who was about to try on the hat.

Neville Longbottom’s face was a mask of pure fury.

As they passed each other, Neville, too busy glaring at him, tripped. Lelouch squashed the reflex of steadying him with a hand, and the boy barely managed to keep from tumbling.

Laughter sounded all over. Neville’s face turned a brilliant shade of pink.

Lelouch pretended not to see. Without another glance, he strode to the Slytherin table. A second year moved to make room for him.

“That took time,” said a girl with a gleaming prefect badge. “We were starting to wonder if you were a Lestrange at all.”

Lelouch shrugged. “It wanted to talk about how well I would do in Ravenclaw. Figures that Gryffindor’s pet wouldn’t be Slytherin-friendly.”

And immediately, that hint of respect that he was so used to. “You’re well-informed.”

“I read.”

“Malfoy, Draco!”

“SLYTHERIN!”

“That’s how you expected mine to go, huh?” Lelouch mused. “You have me at a disadvantage, by the way.”

The girl smiled crookedly. She had an air about her that suggested she was used to being a leader. “Name’s Gemma Farley. Welcome to Slytherin.”

“Don’t go around handing welcomes just yet.”

Draco Malfoy had swaggered up to the table. His glare never left Lelouch’s face. “You don’t know what this guy is. He was mingling with the Weasleys and Potter on the train, and he pulled a wand on me!”

“You really shouldn’t complain about getting a wand to the face when you try to steal someone’s food and then run away at the first sign of a resistance,” said Lelouch.

Malfoy went red in the face. “You-”

“Enough.” It was a boy this time, at least as old as Farley. “We can sort it out in the common room. We don’t fight between ourselves in plain view of entire Hogwarts.”

Finally, a semblance of sense. It was clear by now that Slytherin was isolated from the rest of the school. This must have had, in turn, forced the students of this house into a misguided sense of defensive pride, which would perfectly explain the aura of pompousness around nearly all of the people at this table.

Loftily ignoring Malfoy, Lelouch turned to the first year who had just taken a seat beside him, a Theodore Nott, and struck up a conversation. And some time between his third and fourth stories of manipulating the teachers at the orphanage to get him privileges, half the table ended up listening to him rather than Malfoy’s exaggerated boasts of his family.

He ignored his twinge of disappointment when both Ron Weasley and Harry Potter were sorted into Gryffindor. From what he had seen so far of the boys, it was undoubtedly the best house for them, anyway.

* * *

“So. Explain.”

It grated on Lelouch that he was the one that the senior boy, Marcus Flint, was ordering to defend himself. “Draco made a grab for the food that I bought from the trolley.” It wasn’t like they would ever ask Harry or Ron whose money had been used. “I suggested we use spells rather than grapple like muggles, and he ran off with his lackeys.”

Farley snickered. Flint glared at her.

“Draco?”

“I wasn’t saying anything to him! I just wanted to teach Potter and Weasley a lesson - and for all I know, he could’ve been a mudblood.”

Lelouch held his tongue.

“Seems to me it’s been a misunderstanding,” said Flint, finally. “But anyway, Lestrange, we don’t attack our own. It’s too early for all this, but trust me, you don’t want to make enemies in this house. The entire school’s against us anyway, and that old coot just encourages them.”

Lelouch held Flint’s gaze. “Sounds to me like the school needs to change.”

“Yes, I-what?”

“Why should we be kept separate and discriminated against?” he raised his voice just enough to carry. “The Slytherins are ambitious by nature, which already makes us better than any other house because we know to reach higher. We know our potential. So why are we alienating these other houses, instead of dominating them?”

“We do dominate them!” A third year called from one of the sofas by the windows. “We won the house cup seven years in a row!”

“And you see, that’s the problem,” said Lelouch. “They feel inferior, so they band together and try to challenge us. And yet, we’re winning. What we need to do is to make them see that joining us would not only improve us, but also them, so that they realize how big of a mistake they are making trying to shunt us instead of following us.”

“You want us to make buddies with them?” Farley said, but her eyes were glowing with interest.

“No, I want us to rule them. In everything. I want us to make them see what makes us right, and them wrong. I want them to see exactly how our house trait makes us superior than all of them banded together!”

Someone exclaimed, “Yeah!”

“Because Slytherins have always been better,” said Lelouch, “We just need to make it so unavoidable that they are beaten in every aspect, so that they can’t even deny it to themselves!"

A few cheers sounded, and Lelouch smirked.

Flient was looking gleeful. “Like the Quidditch Cup,” he said.

That wiped the smile off his face. “The what?” Quidditch competition, here, at Hogwarts?

“The tournament takes place every year. All houses have their own team. Slytherin hasn’t won in years.” Flint gave him a condescending smile. “I tell you what, _you_ win us that Cup, and we’re down for whatever plan you cook up. I do have to warn you, though - first years aren’t allowed to play.”

With that, the older boy stuck out a hand. The smirk on his face said it all.

_Flint thinks it’s impossible._

_Flint doesn’t have a clue who he’s just challenged._

Lelouch clasped the hand. “Agreed.”

Half the room erupted into cheers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, Lelouch isn't a physically fit person. All I can say right now is, have a little faith ;)


	6. Chapter 6

Lelouch startled awake, but was used enough to this by now to move beyond the initial jerk. He stared at the unfamiliar ceiling for a moment as he tried to brush aside the images of the rows and rows of people pointing their guns at him.

The black knights. They had followed him, and he had betrayed them - that's what they'd said.

Had they been right? Or had it been the other way around?

He sat up and headed to the common room. There was no way he would try to go back to sleep now, and it was past dawn, anyway, not that there was any way to tell in this place. Why would Salazar Slytherin build the common room in the dungeons? It made for a ridiculously depressing atmosphere, and adhered to yet another common stereotype for 'evil' people.

No one else was up, of course, but that didn't matter to him as he settled into an armchair with a notebook, a stopwatch, and his wand. He pointed the latter at the empty fireplace and whispered an incantation. A blue fire sprang up, instantly warming his outstretched feet. He muttered the counter, and it vanished.

Taking in a long breath, Lelouch aimed his wand and thought the charm in his mind, as firmly as he could, blocking out all other thoughts.

For a split second, nothing happened. Then a weak flame sputtered to life, orange rather than blue and flickering as if it was about to go out any second. Lelouch immediately clicked the button on his stopwatch.

"That doesn't look too great."

Lelouch didn't take his eyes off the fire, which was still burning after half a minute. "I suppose it doesn't."

Draco Malfoy strutted over to take a seat on the opposite armchair. "Hey, listen, I've been thinking, and I think we got off on the wrong foot."

"Get to the point." The fire was definitely dimming now.

"Someone's grouchy."

"You tried to take my food and then went and _told_ on me," Lelouch said flatly. "Even the muggle kids I grew up with considers that beneath them."

He didn't have to look to know that the blonde boy had flushed. "I didn't know you were a Lestrange," he said. "And I definitely didn't know you were my cousin."

The fire went out. Lelouch hit the button to stop the count, before turning to face Draco, unable to fully conceal his surprise. He wished he had been, because the boy was now smirking. "On your mother's side?"

"And yours," said Draco. "Aunt Bellatrix is Mum's sister."

"What fun," Lelouch said dryly. "What's her name?"

"Narcissa. You don't like your mother?"

"I don't know her," Lelouch corrected. "In case you don't know, there's one little detail of her and her husband being in Azkaban since I was a baby."

Draco made a face. "Right. I guess I wouldn't be too big on that, either."

"Why the sudden friendliness?" Lelouch could guess, however. Draco would have to completely blind not to notice how much he was being outplayed so far. An alliance was the best move for him right now.

He also knew how quickly things would change if he lost the challenge with Flint. Not that he had any intention to.

"Hey, I'm just trying to uphold family ties. You're a Slytherin and from a decent family, and there aren't too many of those out there."

Lelouch had to give him credit for coming up with a half-plausible excuse, even if he was a terrible liar and kept averting his eyes. "I see. So, tell me - do I have any more cousins around? Aunts? Uncles?"

Draco was only too happy to oblige, and between the bragging about just how pure their blood was, how respected their family(and especially Draco's father) was and how much of a luxurious life the Malfoys led, Lelouch managed to come up with a clear picture of his family tree. His criminal-filled family tree, apparently.

"What about Sirius Black?" he asked, after Draco had paused to take a breath.

"Oh, the guy was disowned."

Lelouch raised an eyebrow. The papers had made no mention of that. "Why? He fits the bill, from what I've heard."

"Mum said he used to support mudbloods," said Draco. "He was a Gryffindor, only one in the Black family, and he was buddies with Potter, of all people! Or at least that's what everyone knew… until, you know," he lowered his voice dramatically, " _the incident._ "

Yes, Lelouch knew all about _the incident_. But he was quite certain that Draco wouldn't expect him to, so he asked for clarification, and his newfound cousin told him, with relish, of how Sirius Black had betrayed his best friend's family and handed them over to Voldemort on a silver platter.

He had to wonder - "Do you think Hagrid told Potter?" The giant certainly didn't seem like the type to dump so much baggage on the boy.

Draco scoffed. "Hagrid? The oaf can't tell up from down most days, that's what I heard. Spends his days gambling and drinking away the pittance he gets from Dumbledore. He's not even a proper wizard!"

There had to be history there, or maybe the Malfoys just considered a gamekeeper beneath their standard. Actually, the latter was more likely.

But…Hagrid gambled? How incredibly… convenient, Lelouch thought, as he felt a very familiar smirk spread across his face.

* * *

The Great Hall smelled of freshly cooked food as Lelouch made his way to the Slytherin table for breakfast. Most students were already here, his fellow first years looking over their schedules and seeming to be both apprehensive and excited at once.

Lelouch, on the other hand, was mentally preparing for a boring day. He didn't think he'd learn anything in class that he hadn't covered already.

So he was a little surprised when Neville Longbottom caught up to him out on the grounds just after he had finished breakfast.

"Are you related to Bellatrix Lestrange?" he demanded.

Lelouch cast a glance around. Only a few had noticed, and even those that did only seemed mildly curious.

So Neville's parents weren't common knowledge.

"She's my mother," he clarified.

"She's your-" Neville glared at him. "Do you know what she did?"

Lelouch raised his eyebrows. "You'll have to be more specific." He couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt as Neville went purple with rage, but he had to remind himself that this was necessary.

"More-more-do you know about my pa- why she was sent to Azkaban?! And your father, too!"

"Ah. Yes, I've heard."

Neville's eyes were smoldering. "And you-you d-don't even care, do you? You don't even-"

"Do you expect me to care?" said Lelouch. By now, a lot of students were staring. "Do you expect it to affect me in any way? Do you expect me to apologise? Because to be honest, I don't see why I should."

Neville whipped out his wand, prompting Lelouch to draw his own. "L-Locomotor Mortis!"

Nothing happened. There were a few snickers, and Neville's face twisted in rage and humiliation.

Lelouch had to fight to keep his face expressionless. It almost physically hurt to do this, but- "Do you think it matters, Neville?"

"LOCOMOTOR MORTIS!"

"Do you think it matters that your parents are war heroes? Do you think it somehow necessitates you being a hero, yourself?"

Abandoning his futile attempts, Neville lunged at him. In response, with a sharp movement of his wand, Lelouch flawlessly cast the spell the boy had been trying to produce, and Neville cried out in shock as his legs locked together and he toppled to the ground.

Lelouch stepped towards him as Neville tried unsuccessfully to get up. "At least I can be proud of my parents!" he spat, glaring at him.

"Is that right? Tell me something, Neville," Lelouch said casually, fully aware of the students watching. "If being born to war heroes is something to be proud of, is being born to criminals something to be ashamed of?"

"I… what?"

"Am I responsible for the sins of my parents? Are you responsible for the heroism of yours? Should I be arrested and thrown in Azkaban for my last name, and should you be given a medal for the same?"

Neville stared at him, wide-eyed. "I… I…"

"Because let me tell you something, Neville," said Lelouch speaking evenly and clearly, but in a far softer tone. "You don't have to live up to your parents' standards any more than I have to live up to mine."

The boy slumped as if the wind had been knocked out of him. "But I have to make them proud of me," he said, almost desperately.

"If your parents are as wonderful as the papers made them seem," Lelouch flicked his wand, freeing Neville's legs, "They would be proud of you no matter who you choose to be."

Neville stared up at the outstretched hand Lelouch was offering him, and then to the smile on his face. Hesitantly, he took the hand and allowed himself to be helped up, which actually took a lot more effort than Lelouch let himself show.

"If you knew all that about me - why did you fight?" Neville asked, haltingly.

Lelouch met his gaze. "Because I don't have to let myself get hurt or compensate in any way for what my parents did."

The boy turned pink and averted his eyes. He looked around at the small crowd, his cheeks deepening to a dark red. He turned back to Lelouch, opened and closed his mouth a few times, and then hurried away without another word.

That didn't go too badly, Lelouch reflected as he made his way back to the castle. Neville would need more time, but this was a definite step in the right direction.

* * *

The classes really were quite uneventful - the only thing of even slight interest was the fact that Harry Potter was apparently popular even among the teachers. Both the heads of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff turned out to be good-natured people that were quite suited to teach (although many of his fellow Slytherins managed to come up with imaginary faults all the same) and Professor McGonagall turned out be as strict as he had imagined her to be (not that it stopped her from giving him a smile when he managed to successfully complete the task she had set).

The biggest - and only - surprise came on Friday, in the form of Professor Snape.

Lelouch had gathered that Snape favored the Slytherins, if all the talking around the common room was any indication. However, he hadn't imagined the man to be, for lack of a better word, a bully.

Potions was the first class they had with the Gryffindors, and the hostility was easy to see even before Snape had entered the class, as the two student bodies took seats as far apart as possible. Draco sat next to him, as he had all week, and began talking about how he was looking forward to Granger finally getting what was coming to her. Lelouch had heard about how the Gryffindors had been gaining points all week thanks to her performances in class. He didn't see why Draco was so bothered, however, when Lelouch had been doing the same for Slytherin, albeit in lesser quantity because he didn't raise his hand in class and the points he had gained had only been due to completing the tasks.

Professor Snape didn't seem to be very concerned about Hermione Granger, though. Instead, he targeted Harry Potter, first in the roll call, and then by asking him questions that Lelouch was quite certain students were not supposed to answer in their first class. Powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood? The Draught of Living Death was much too advanced. The bezoar question was somewhat easier, but not by much, and the third was a trick question. And during all of this, Snape completely ignored Hermione's hand waving in the air. Instead, he turned and looked straight at Lelouch, and he realized what was coming with more than a little annoyance.

"Well, Mr. Lestrange, would you kindly enlighten Mr. Potter?"

Lelouch kept himself from glaring, but it was a close thing. The man had to have realized what kind of position he had just put him in. If he didn't answer, it would be a humiliation just like what Harry had suffered, and would lose him a lot of favor with the Slytherins. If he did, the Gryffindors would clearly realize that their most hated professor favored him, and Lelouch knew very well how students reacted to that kind of realization.

There wasn't a choice, not really.

"Asphodel and wormwood are used together to brew the Draught of Living Death," he said. "A bezoar is found in the stomach of a goat, and both monkswood and wolfsbane are synonyms for the plant aconite. According to the syllabus, we should be learning these things firsthand in a few years."

Snape's eyes widened slightly, before thinning in displeasure. Lelouch refused to look away, even though they both knew what he had done - in the most polite way, he'd outed the fact that these weren't things Harry was supposed to know yet.

After a moment of staring contest, Snape turned away and snapped at the class to write down the answers. The rest of the class reflected his mood - he snapped at Neville several times, which he seemed to relish in, and he showed off Draco's potion-making technique, but he didn't say another word to Lelouch except to award Slytherin ten points when his potion turned out flawless.

He'd probably lost some goodwill points with Snape, but Lelouch couldn't bring himself to care, especially after seeing Neville panic and cover himself in boils by accident. Snape had left him with no other option. He could put up with - and commit - many atrocities, but he drew the line at encouraging preying on those who couldn't fight back.

Besides, he reflected as the bell rang, Snape had his own loyalties, anyway. He was quite sure by now that the man had reported everything about their shopping trip to Albus Dumbledore - there was no other explanation for how interested the man had seemed in Lelouch's sorting. And he was well aware of how he would come across - an extremely intelligent and talented child who was also an expert liar(good enough to fool a seasoned Legillimens) with enough charisma to sway Hogwart's most notorious professor, a wand that was practically a replica of Lord Voldemort's(apart from the core) and sharing the blood and last name of two of Lord Voldemort's most sadistic followers. And now, also their house.

He should have been more careful. But then again, how was he supposed to know back then that the headmaster of a _school_ was possibly the most powerful wizard in the world?

No wonder Hogwarts was considered the most secure wizardring establishment in Britain. And speaking of which…

Before that train of thought could go any further, bushy hair filled his vision. Hermione Granger had marched up to him, a scowl on her face.

"How did Professor Snape know you knew the answers?" she demanded.

Lelouch blinked. That hadn't been the question he'd expected - she was more intelligent than he had given her credit for.

"He supervised my visit to Diagon Alley and we discussed the items at the apothecary," he responded honestly.

She nearly turned green with envy. "He took you to the apothecary?"

"I insisted," Lelouch said with a little smile.

Hermione huffed. "Well, you still missed a few crucial things," she said, haughtily. "You didn't mention what the Draught of Living Death could do, or the use of a bezoar."

"The former puts you to a deep sleep that resembles a coma, hence the name, and a bezoar will save you from most poisons," Lelouch recited without blinking.

She gaped at him. "Why didn't you mention those, then?" she asked, sounding disbelieving.

Lelouch smirked. "He didn't ask."

He left her staring after him. Hopefully, that would give her a few things to think over - namely, her own attitude. For the moment, this was the best he could do.

* * *

As Lelouch left the hall after dinner that day, his gaze fell on the Gryffindor table, taking in the few of them he'd interacted with so far. Hermione Granger was mindlessly shoving food into her mouth while devouring _Standard Book of Spells: Part 2_. Neville looked away when their eyes met, and Ron did the same - he seemed to have been actively avoiding him for the whole week, which Lelouch didn't really see as much of a problem. To his pleasant surprise, apparently Harry did, because as he reached the entrance to the dungeons, the boy called from only a few feet behind him.

"Lelouch! Hey, wait up!"

He turned around, a little taken aback but not showing it. "Hey. What's the matter?"

Harry caught up to him in a few swift steps. "Well, I know Ron's being a little-"

"Git?"

Harry stifled a snort. "I just thought I should hear your side of the story," he said in a rush. "I mean, even Hagrid…" he trailed off.

"Told you to stay away from me?"

The boy winced, and then deflated. "Yeah."

"Do you expect me to defend myself or something?" said Lelouch, raising an eyebrow. "You already know exactly how much contact I've had with my parents."

"Yeah, but why did you let the hat put you in Slytherin? After everything Ron said…"

"Ron also said that I'm evil, and yet here you are," Lelouch pointed out.

Harry frowned at him, but didn't deny it. "So you're not going to say anything?"

"Did I do anything wrong to you or Ron?"

"Well, no…" Harry looked a little confused. Then his face cleared. "Snape likes you," he said accusingly.

"Professor Snape likes Slytherins, and I'm actually a decent student. I don't see any mystery."

Harry threw his hands up in frustration. "I'm just trying to understand, here! Everyone in Gryffindor hates Slytherins! There has to be a reason!"

"Everyone in Slytherin hates Gryffindors. What do you think is the reason?"

Harry groaned and rubbed his forehead. "I can't deal with this," he said angrily. "No one's giving me a straight answer!"

To be fair, that was probably true. After watching him for a few moments, Lelouch finally took pity on him. "Come on," he said, waving a hand towards the stairs. "There's still half an hour before curfew. I'll explain."

They settled in an empty classroom, and Harry listened with rapt attention as Lelouch told him the story of the four founders, leading up to the confrontation between Gryffindor and Slytherin which had resulted in the latter leaving the school.

"Sounds like Slytherin was a git," Harry said, after he had finished.

"I'm not going to argue that," said Lelouch, shrugging. "But history is written in favor of victors. If Slytherin had won, the story would have been much different in the books."

"So… this has been going on for centuries?"

"Pretty much."

Harry bit his lower lip. "That's stupid."

Lelouch actually laughed. "It kind of is. But I suppose there's another point I should mention. The motive for committing most crimes, Harry? That's power. And as it happens, Slytherin is the house for power-seekers. Not everyone who tries to reach high is a criminal, you know, but criminals are usually ambitious."

"Which is why Dark wizards are usually from Slytherin," said Harry, catching on.

"Precisely." Lelouch glanced at his watch. "5 minutes before curfew. Go on, before Ron thinks I kidnapped you."

"Speaking of Ron, he should know about all this," Harry commented.

"I can handle Ron," Lelouch assured him. "Go."

All in all, he thought as he made his way down to the dungeons, it had been a successful week. He had gained a lot of popularity with the Slytherins, neutralized a threat, established an alliance with Harry Potter who in turn was beloved by nearly the entire wizardring community, and had come up with a lead for the Gringotts break-in, the most secured place in Britain - again, apart from Hogwarts.

It was time to follow through on the information he had gathered from the glimpses in Harry's mind. Lelouch settled into his favorite spot on the common room and rested his hand on his chin, getting comfortable. He'd be here for some time.

It was time to plan a visit to a certain gamekeeper.


	7. Chapter 7

To Lelouch's irritation, the best plan he could come up with could not be executed until after Halloween, because it turned out that Legillimency did not work on Hagrid. Maybe it was his giant blood, but when Lelouch had casually walked up to the man and asked for directions to a place in the castle he already knew quite well, he could not glimpse anything of his mind. And of course, Hagrid hadn't seemed too keen on interacting with him, either - just muttering a quick 'up the stairs then two right turns' before walking away. At least he wasn't actively hostile, even if he did seem to be bigoted.

He didn't like waiting, but it seemed he would have to do it to maximize his chances of success.

On top of that, Thursday's flying lesson was coming up, and Lelouch was quite sure that he wouldn't do nearly as well in that as he did in his spellwork. Draco was in excellent spirits, however, going on and on about his feats on a broom that were so outrageous that Lelouch was tempted to believe he was making all of it up. The fact that he was making the entire house listen suggested that to be untrue, though. Exaggerated, sure, but not completely made-up.

In the meantime, Lelouch read up on the Quidditch rules, making sure to do it out of prying eyes. Or eyes in general, actually, because he could just imagine the fit Draco would throw if he caught his cousin with 'Quidditch for dummies'. He had to begin with it because he couldn't very well ask anyone about the rules, but that had been a very bitter pill to swallow as it was. He didn't need the Malfoy boy adding to it.

He also kept an ear out for the other teams. Apparently, Gryffindor hadn't picked out a Seeker yet, which was by far the most important position in Quidditch. In fact, it was so important that Lelouch wondered why the other players were playing at all. Ten points for each score, and one hundred and fifty for catching the snitch? Ridiculous.

Some of that mystery cleared up when he read that Quidditch matches could go on for days, thus giving teams time to secure leads much more than just 150 points. Despite that, Lelouch didn't envy the Chasers.

The flying lesson was shared by Gryffindors and Slytherins. Harry caught up to him on the grounds before the lesson. They hadn't spoken to each other all week beyond a few nods in corridors, so Lelouch had actually been looking forward to it. He didn't expect Ron to have tagged along, though.

"Hey," he greeted Harry. "Nervous?"

It was only out of courtesy that he'd asked at all. Harry's face was a picture of gloom.

"Seems like everybody knows how to fly around here," he said with a scowl. Ron was fidgeting next to him.

"I don't," said Lelouch. "There are plenty of students who can't, trust me. And frankly, I don't think it's a very useful skill to have."

"Of course you'd think anything you can't do is useless," Ron muttered under his breath, earning a long-suffering sigh from Harry.

"Broomsticks are only good for transportation and playing Quidditch, _"_ said Lelouch, ignoring Harry. "And Apparition and portkeys are much better substitutes for the former."

"And what about Quidditch?" Ron challenged.

"It's a game," Lelouch deadpanned.

"And what, you hate games?"

"Playing games is not a useful skill unless you use the games themselves to some other agenda. Playing professionally, for example."

"Blimey," said Ron, shaking his head. "You've never heard of fun, have you? Do you even play any games?"

"Plenty," said Lelouch. "And it's quite fun for me, because I don't tend to lose."

Ron made a face. "Like what, scrabbles? Bet you've never even tried Exploding Snap…"

"I did."

"...Or Skittles…"

"Not my type."

".…Or chess…"

"You play chess?" Lelouch honestly hadn't expected that.

Ron's eyes glinted. "I'd take you on any day. Or anyone else you bring."

Harry looked between them, wary but also a little hopeful.

"I can play for myself, thanks," said Lelouch, smiling a little. He could understand all too well why Ron would extend a challenge like that _-_ on top of beating a _Slytherin,_ there were way too few chess players around not to take advantage of the chance of playing a seasoned opponent. "You're pretty confident. I'd hate to pass up the opportunity to face an actually competent player."

Ron smirked. "See you, then. Tomorrow?"

"I don't think playing anytime soon is a good idea," said Lelouch, and Harry frowned at him. "A Slytherin and a Gryffindor playing each other will turn into a bit of spectacle. If I find a quiet time, I'll let you know."

"Fancy way of saying you don't want people to see you lose," said Ron, grinning wickedly.

"You three! What are you doing?"

Madam Hooch had arrived. With a purposefully vague smile towards the redhead, Lelouch went over to stand next to his broom. It took a couple of tries to make it come to his hand, but he didn't have to try to fly, at least, because Neville kicked off from the ground before the whistle, slipped off his broom a few seconds later, and ended up with a broken wrist.

Madam Hooch took the boy to the hospital, leaving them with a firm instruction to keep their feet on the ground, and _of course_ Draco had to pick this opportunity to antagonize the Gryffindors. Lelouch watched silently as his cousin picked up a little Remembrall Neville had dropped and proceeded to badmouth the boy. It wouldn't do to get into a public spat with Draco. He could always take it off him later.

Harry had other plans, though.

As the boy lifted off on his broom, it was clear that he was a natural at this. And then he caught the plummeting Remembrall, and Lelouch knew for sure that what he was watching was an extraordinary display by any standard.

And Professor McGonagall had to have seen that. As she led Harry off the field, Lelouch turned to the smirking Draco and said, "Hey, remind me again - how big is the Snitch?"

The blonde looked caught off guard by the question. "About this size," he said, making a circle with his index finger and thumb.

"So," said Lelouch, "Would you say it's about the size of the Remembrall?"

"Yeah, exactly! But why-" and then it finally dawned on Draco. "Bloody hell," he said, with feeling.

"Quite," said Lelouch.

* * *

The professors were slowly but surely warming up to Lelouch. Professor Sprout often gave him smiles in her classes and never hesitated to award points, Professor Flitwick was enthusiastic enough to let slip on more than a few occasions that he was right there with Hermione Granger as the best students in their year and seemed delighted when he accepted the compliments graciously rather than arrogantly. Professor McGonagall was, by now, used to him finishing the class tasks on the first attempt, so after awarding him points she tended to set him to work on the less competent students. It was doing wonders for his influence on the Slytherins.

Professor Snape was now mostly ignoring him in classes, calling on him only to award him points. Lelouch, on the other hand, found the man hard to ignore, because while Harry was more or less holding his own, Snape was practically tormenting Neville. The boy had melted or exploded his cauldron several times now, and anyone who could see the way his hands shook during potion-making would know why. Lelouch could see it, but he didn't say anything. He wasn't in a position to - yet.

All the more reason to win the Cup for Slytherin.

There was only one Gryffindor who escaped the majority of Snape's bullying, and that was Hermione. Not for lack of trying on the professor's part, though, but she was so advanced that it was hard to find fault with her for anything other than being overly enthusiastic. It infuriated Lelouch when that was exactly the reason his head of house chose to target her. She never gained any points in Potions despite making nearly-perfect potions; the points all went to Lelouch.

She was jealous of him, and Lelouch couldn't find it in him to fault her for that. He could give her points for guts, though, because she approached him in the library one day. Lelouch had taken to spending several hours each day in the library, because that was the one place he was sure Draco wouldn't follow him into.

"You're reading A History of Magic," she stated, her eyes lingering on the book cover. "Did you finish it yet? I've found the Goblin Rebellions fascinating, in particular."

She was challenging him. Lelouch leaned back in his seat, arms behind his head, exuding casual confidence. "If you really want to discuss this with me, Hermione, fair warning - I'll confuse you. You'll never look at this chapter of the book, or magical history in general, in the same way again."

She looked down her nose at him. "I suppose you'll say the goblins were right to rebel? That they should've had better privileges? These were all contested in the book. The author even acknowledged several demands as quite valid from their point of view."

Lelouch smiled enigmatically at her. "Sit down, Hermione," he said, indicating the chair in front of him. She sat down, albeit stiffly.

"Which chapter was it, again?" he asked. Hermione swelled with righteous indignation.

"I knew you didn't read the book!" she said. "No one seems to have read this book, apart from me!"

"Humor me, Hermione," said Lelouch, unflinching.

She huffed. "Chapter Twenty Three: The Goblin Rebellions."

"Thanks," said Lelouch. "The wording is a little strange, no? You can only rebel against a ruling body. Now, were they revolting against goblins?"

Hermione frowned. "No, there are no hierarchy among goblins! They are ruled by the Ministry of Magic, same as us!"

"Has any goblin ever worked for the ministry of magic?"

"Well, no-"

"Then who do you think decided that goblins should be ruled by the ministry?"

Let it not be said that Hermione was slow. She took in a sharp breath. "You're saying we conquered them. We brought them into our society without asking for their opinion."

"Did we bring them into our society?" Lelouch countered. "Can a goblin be a teacher, Hermione? Can they be ministry officials? Or writers? There are many speculations in this book about what it would have been like for the goblins, but is the author a goblin? Can goblins be authors at all?"

Hermione had her hands over her mouth. "So you're saying we conquered them, and then set them to work in our society without even making them members of the society?"

"I'm not saying anything of the sort," Lelouch said calmly. "I'm saying that there are at least two sides, but usually hundreds of sides, to every historical event. You can read all you want, Hermione - you may know what actually happened, but without knowing all of the sides, you'll never know why they actually happened. The Goblin Rebellion actually sounds like one of the easier ones - only two sides. But that's what we know. Do you realize how many followers Grindelwald had? Do you think all of them followed Grindelwald because they believed in his ideology? Hogwarts: A History talks about what Salazar Slytherin did and why, but do you honestly think anyone on the side of Salazar ever had a say in that book? Every history book favors a side, Hermione. Always has, and always will."

She stared at him, bright-eyed. "You're saying we'll never know true history."

"I'm saying it's very unlikely, yes," Lelouch agreed.

Hermione stared at him for a moment, and then let out a shaky laugh. "You were right. I should have backed off."

Lelouch laughed with her. "That's okay," he said. "You're handling this quite well, actually."

"Well, it's been illuminating at least," she said. "It's a fascinating way of looking at things."

"It's not very fun," said Lelouch.

"No," she admitted. "But I think it's really interesting, the way you think. If it's okay with you - maybe we can study together?"

Lelouch hid his surprise. "I'll find you next time I'm here," he said, then held out a hand, because he thought Hermione was the type of person who would find this sort of official confirmation appealing. He was right, because she gave him a broad smile as she shook his hand.

* * *

Discussing things with Hermione turned out to be quite entertaining, even if her first instinct was always to look at things in the way of the books. But she definitely had a lot of potential, and conversing with her became the highlight of most of Lelouch's days - he couldn't talk about his plans with her, but at least he could be honest about the theoretical aspects. He was cordial with Harry, but seeing as the other boy spent most of his time with the Gryffindors(and Quidditch practice, he suspected), they barely talked. Until he could establish some sort of connection with Ron, that would have to suffice.

Halloween, and in turn, the imminent opportunity to finally set things in motion, arrived two months into their term. They had classes that day, too, after which Lelouch ditched Draco and his lackeys and headed for the library. Hermione was supposed to be there for a small discussion on Magical Theory - Lelouch had stated plainly that he wouldn't stay any longer than half an hour, which she had accepted with only a little annoyance.

He arrived in the library to find her face buried in a book. Literally.

"Hermione?" he asked, frowning slightly, and she lifted her head to reveal bloodshot eyes and wet cheeks.

Lelouch angled his chair so that it was between her and the librarian sitting at the desk, before sitting down. After a moment of hesitation, he reached out and took one of her hands in his. Hermione hiccupped at the gesture, another tear rolling down her cheek.

"What's going on?" he asked quietly.

She gulped. "I w-was going to go to the - then I thought maybe y-you would… I mean wouldn't-"

"Did you get any bad news?" The possibility was slim, but he still had to ask before eliminating it.

"N-no, I just-" she trailed off, but then seemed to steel herself against something. "Y-you don't think I'm a… a nightmare, do you?"

So, the most likely scenario. Someone had picked on her. "No," Lelouch said immediately. "And neither does anyone else."

"Well, you're wrong!" Hermione snatched her hand from his. "Ron Weasley was saying it today, and I know he wasn't just saying it to hurt me, because he didn't know I was there!"

"Trust me, Hermione, I know what it takes to make someone the stuff of nightmares," said Lelouch. "What he meant was that you annoy him, and so what if you do? Weren't you saying just a few days back how much _he_ irritates _you_?"

"Not just him! He said th-that's why I had no friends!"

"Don't you?"

Hermione's eyes glossed over again. "I mean, I guess…"

"You _know_ ," said Lelouch. "Otherwise you wouldn't have come here, trusting me to comfort you."

Her lips trembled, and then she was gripping his hands in hers, looking as if she would very much like to give him a bear hug. Lelouch's lips quirked… he was enjoying this, actually. It had been so long since he'd actually had a chance to do something good just for the sake of it. He'd nearly forgotten how good it felt.

"Now, how about that chapter?" he suggested.

It didn't take long for them to fall into their normal routine - Hermione would bring up a point, Lelouch would bring out an angle that would throw her for a loop, and they would debate over it until one of them emerged victorious. So far, Hermione never had.

It was almost an hour before they decided to close their discussion - the library had closed by then because Madam Pince had gone to attend the feast, so they had ended up talking in the deserted corridor instead - and it was Hermione who finally suggested leaving.

"You'll miss the feast completely, at this rate," she said.

"True." Lelouch made a show of glancing at his watch, even though he knew perfectly well what time it was. "Let's go, then."

Hermione self-consciously dabbed at the bags under her eyes before giving him a tentative smile. "I think I have to go wash up, first. You go on."

Lelouch shrugged. "Alright. Don't take long."

She headed up the stairs towards the girls' bathroom, and he took the stairs down to the ground floor. To his astonishment, the Great Hall was deserted.

_Something's wrong._

Lelouch turned and sprinted back, through the halls, up the flights of stairs and towards the second floor. When he arrived near the girls' bathroom, he was surprised to see Harry and Ron, looking tired and quite dirty, trudging through the corridor.

"What's going on?" he asked as he stopped in front of them, hunching over and gasping for breath.

Harry stared at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I…" Lelouch had gotten his breath back enough to straighten up. "I came to look for Hermione. You?"

"Same. Found her, too, and that's how…"

Harry told him the story of how they had locked a troll in with Hermione and then had to rescue her.

But by the end, Lelouch was no longer paying attention, having listened enough to determine that Hermione was, in fact, unscathed. It couldn't have been a coincidence that Professor Quirrell had brought the news of the troll, could it? Why would a professor miss the feast to roam the dungeons, and what were the chances that it would be the same person who had joined the staff this year _and_ was at the Leaky Cauldron on the day of the break-in?

"Quite something," he said, nodding, as Harry finished speaking. The boy blinked at him, apparently catching his zoned-out expression, so he changed the subject. "Hey, your glasses have scratches."

He held out his hand, and Harry dropped the spectacles onto his palm. Lelouch raised his wand and performed a simple charm to repair it before handing it back.

"Thanks," Harry said gratefully. Lelouch held out the glasses, and he pulled them on, noticeably relaxing once they had settled on his nose.

"Can you even see without this thing?" Ron asked, frowning.

"I can see outlines and colors," Harry said, shrugging. "It's blurry, a little bit, but I would be able to tell which of you is which."

"Well, I'm still glad I don't need one of those," said Lelouch. "And surprised Hermione doesn't."

The two of them shared a small laugh. "Well, speaking of Hermione, we'd better get back," said Harry. "See you."

Lelouch waved back at him and made for the Slytherin common room.

* * *

He entered to the sight of a mountain of food. Apparently, because of the troll attack, everything from the feast had been sent to the students' respective common rooms. Lelouch joined the group of first years and finished his food, shrugging off Draco's inquiries with a 'Library. Lost track of time' which was accepted with a half-disgusted, half-bemused shake of the head.

As he was heading to the dormitory, Marcus Flint approached him.

"We haven't heard a thing about your plan yet," he said. "Gryffindor's got a strong team, you know that, right?"

Lelouch responded simply with, "Get the team members."

A few minutes later, they were all settled around a table - Ten players in total, counting the reserves. "Well?" said Terence Higgs, the Seeker. "What's the plan?"

He told them.

There were a few moments of stunned silence.

"You're a maniac," Flint breathed, finally.

"How did you even think of that? That's crazy," said Adrian Pucey, a Chaser.

"The trick to combat," said Lelouch, "is that everybody's human. Now, I've pretty much just won you the game, so here are some things I want in return. No one injures a Gryffindor on purpose, no one does any foul play that are glaringly obvious, and _no one_ touches Harry Potter."

"Hey, wait a minute-"

"We don't want our image to get any worse," said Lelouch. "Remember what we're trying to accomplish. We don't need fouls. We're better than that. We can win the game without making it all about brute strength rather than skill."

Another beat of silence. "I guess," said Terence, ruefully.

"I'm doing what you asked me to do," said Lelouch. "It's time for you to hold up your end. You're going to go along with my plans, _all of them._ "

"You drive a hard bargain, Lestrange," said Flint. He took a deep breath. "Okay, then. We're with you. Come on, team! Victory is ours!"

 _Cheesy, but effective,_ Lelouch thought, as the squad roared, and his own heart roared against what he was going to do.

He brutally silenced it as he rose from his seat, gave them a nod, and strode out of the room.


	8. Chapter 8

Only days after Halloween, the Hogsmeade weekend arrived, and Lelouch was extremely glad that at least the Quidditch team had agreed to help him so far.

"Adrian Pucey," said Filch, looking up from his form. "Got permission, it says here. Go on, move! Next!"

Lelouch obligingly moved forward with the others. Taking the Chaser's appearance had been his best bet, because the third year was short for his age and about Lelouch's size. Pucey himself would come to stand in the line a few minutes later, but Lelouch had already told him what to say. He pulled his hood over his head.

Hogsmeade was a bit of a walk, but not too much for him, which was a relief. On the way, he changed his appearance, his hair turning blonde, his eyes light blue. After reaching the village, he decided to go exploring; he'd need the layout, after all, in case he needed to come back here.

The candy shop, Honedukes, was extremely crowded, but that was why he could easily slip in. The selection was quite good, actually, and he ended up buying several Cauldron Cakes and Pumpkin Pasties, which he finished in the shop before leaving. The Post Office was next, and not for the first time he found himself wishing for an owl of his own. Staying at the orphanage had meant that he couldn't have bought one because there was no place to conceal a bird, but it would have been convenient to have a trusted method of communication. Owls could be intercepted, of course, but an unassuming breed would have gone some ways to prevent that.

He mingled a bit with the locals, who told him about a supposedly haunted place called the Shrieking Shack. Intrigued, he went to have a look. It certainly looked the part of a haunted house, and it really was too bad that it had no doors for anyone to enter, and the windows were blocked with heavy wooden boards.

The last part led Lelouch to conclude that it had at some point housed something dangerous. An animal, most likely, judging by the howling and shrieking he had heard about. Not a ghost, certainly, because physical barriers wouldn't stop them.

He eyed the boarded up windows for a moment, before glancing back. No one was around.

He raised his wand to touch one of the boards and whispered under his breath. The blue flames shot from it and caught on the wood. Lelouch kept it contained, focused on the single board, and a few moments later he extinguished it before using his wand to poke a few holes in the now charred wood.

"Lumos."

With his eye in one of the openings and his wand illuminating the interior, he found himself looking into a dusty room with broken furniture. Not just broken - smashed to pieces. The walls and floor had deep scratch marks. _Claw marks,_ Lelouch concluded after a few moments.

What really interested him, though, was the furniture. The remains of what had probably been a chair, and a four-poster bed. The bed was large, but it was still obviously made for a human.

No human with an inkling of sense would stay with an animal so wild. So either the human and the animal had lived here at different times, or…

Lelouch frowned deeply. Now that the possibility had occurred to him, he realized how peculiar it was that the villagers had described the screams as 'howling'. Ferocious animals growled and roared - very few of them actually howled. To be honest, the only one he could think of would be a _… wait a second._

Didn't the villagers say that the howls only sounded at night, and not on most nights, at that? Didn't they say the last occurrence had been decades ago?

The dots connected all at once, and Lelouch looked at the interior with sudden realization.

_Had this place really been for…?_

Only one way to find out.

Breaking through the window was not too difficult after using the spells. Lelouch visited all of the rooms briefly before he began his way up the tunnel which was, if he was judging the direction right, leading him back to the school.

He was.

As he came to the mouth of the tunnel, he could see the Hogwarts castle, so close that he was sure he was inside the school grounds. He was incredulous that such an unguarded entrance existed; and then something smashed heavily against the opening and he jumped back inside the tunnel, shocked, his heart hammering in his chest.

_A tree branch?_

Well, that was one way to ensure protection. This had to be the Whomping Willow that he'd only ever seen from a distance, but had heard so much about. He'd wondered why such a dangerous tree was inside the school and now he had his answer… it was here to conceal this entrance.

Grudgingly admitting to himself that it was time to retreat, Lelouch began the long walk back. It was probably already past noon. Once he got out of here, he'd have to go straight to his intended destination for today.

After getting out of the shack, Lelouch repaired the window as best as he could, hoping that if anyone did see the damage, they would just attribute it to the werewolf that he was now sure used to transform here. A werewolf that had possibly graduated from Hogwarts, at that.

Lelouch forced that conclusion to the back of his mind. He had spent a lot of time here already - he needed to focus on his primary objective.

Hog's Head was rather isolated. Before entering, he bowed his head, concealing his face entirely with his hood despite already having a disguise, and then walked in.

It was mostly empty. Two wizards sat in a corner playing cards. The place smelled of cheap beer.

He walked up to the counter. "Hey," he said in a deep voice to the bartender,who he rather thought looked a bit like Albus Dumbledore if he had ditched his colorful wardrobe for dull and grimy clothes and was always scowling instead of smiling. Did the headmaster have relatives? He'd have to look into it. "Saw the Hogwarts crowd outside. The giant coming by today?"

"Does it look like I care?" grunted the man. "You going to order something?"

That wasn't too surprising, even if it would have been helpful to have an assurance that Hagrid would come. "Beer. Not the buttery kind. Hate that stuff."

The bartender shoved a dusty bottle towards him. He paid for it and then went to the table with the two wizards. It didn't take long before he was included in the game - but Hagrid still hadn't shown up, and he was beginning to get a little anxious that maybe he wouldn't, today.

His worries were unfounded, because Hagrid walked in at about a quarter to five in the afternoon, after most of the students had left. The partial-giant asked for a beer, and Lelouch abandoned his game to join Hagrid at his table.

"Hey, big guy," he said. "Fancy a game?"

Hagrid eyed him. "What're yeh playin'?"

"Cards." He'd asked the two wizards - gambling with cards was by far the most popular method at the Hog's Head. The actual game varied, however. He'd let Hagrid pick.

"S'pose it can't hurt," said Hagrid, after a moment. "C'mon then."

"You're having beer?" said Lelouch. "Let me buy you something a little stronger."

"Thanks, but nah," the gamekeeper shook his head. "Too early."

"As you say."

Six rounds of absolute thrashing, and Hagrid changed his mind. Lelouch bought him two bottles of Firewhiskey in succession, watching the man's cheeks get slowly flushed.

"It's okay, you're probably just rusty," he said. "Bet you're too busy at Hogwarts for all this."

"Ain' that the truth," said Hagrid, cheering up a little. "Dumbledore trusts me loads, y'know."

Lelouch called for the third bottle. "I'm sure," he said. "Trusts you to sweep the snow, huh?" He laughed unkindly.

"Oy, there's plenty o' other stuff," said Hagrid. "Top secret stuff."

"Of course. Top secret," Lelouch said sarcastically. "Like escorting Harry Potter to his bank to get his mounds of gold." It was no secret - the magazines had reported it.

"I wasn't there ter escort just Harry Potter," Hagrid sniffed, his eyes bright. "I had Hogwarts business."

"Yeah, yeah. Next you'll tell me _you_ emptied the vault that got robbed."

"I did!" Hagrid was almost pouting. "Wait, I shouldn't've said that."

"Because it's 'top secret'?" Lelouch snorted. "Anyone can _say_ they did something. Besides, you said you were there on Hogwarts business."

"Ah-ah," Hagrid wagged a finger at him. "Anythin' Dumbledore wants done isHogwarts business. But I'm tellin' yeh nothin', Dumbledore trusted me with this!"

"Surely the professors know," Lelouch prodded.

"Nah," said Hagrid, looking triumphant. "This whole affair's between just the Headmaster and Nicholas Flamel. I'm the only one they told!"

Lelouch knew that name - it was on one of the chocolate cards Harry had unwrapped on the train. Dumbledore was famous for his work on alchemy with the man.

Hagrid was rather red in the face now. Lelouch debated inwardly whether to push further, and he might have, but the bartender was giving him suspicious glances.

"Sounds important," he said, and Hagrid grinned in triumph before calling for another bottle. Lelouch stopped him with a shake of the head.

"I'm not buying you any more, these things aren't cheap and you already owe me a lot," he told him. "C'mon, five more rounds and we'll call it a day. Anyway, what were you saying?"

Hagrid looked confused. "What was I- eh, never mind that now, yer goin' down this time!"

"Sure," said Lelouch, sarcastic, but with good reason this time.

* * *

When he got out of Hog's Head, the sky was steadily darkening. Lelouch took the deserted path down to the castle, hoping that no one had noticed his absence back at the castle.

Passing through the gate turned out to be easy enough, because Hagrid had entered only a few minutes ahead of him and, in his now very drunk state, had left the gates secured only by a padlock that he could open with Alohomora. Once inside, he was relieved to see that he wasn't even the only one out on the grounds. He was just in time for dinner, in fact.

At the Slytherin table, some of his peers gave him weird looks. Draco said, "We didn't see you all day."

The Quidditch team was too far away to hear, so he was free to respond with, "Brushing up on Quidditch strategies."

"All day?" said Blaise Zabini. "Didn't even catch you at lunch."

"Ate late," Lelouch responded. Adrian Pucey was trying to catch his eye. "You probably just missed me."

"Yeah, I guess," said Zabini, still frowning. Ignoring him for the moment, Lelouch headed over to the Chaser. "What?"

"Filch thought he'd seen me pass by already," said Adrian, voice low. "I told him I'd doubled back, needed something. He bought it."

"Good," said Lelouch.

"What's going on? What did you do?"

"Trust me," said Lelouch, "You don't want to know."

* * *

He read up on Nicholas Flamel the next day - the man was easy enough to find in alchemy history. Once he had come to Flamel's most notable achievement, Lelouch was sure that he had found what the little package in vault 713 had contained.

A philosopher's stone. Even Muggles had myths about this thing.

And it was in their school - under the third floor corridor, if Dumbledore's words at the sorting had been any indication. A stone which made the drinker of the elixir immortal, allegedly, and something which someone desperate enough to try to rob a Gringotts vault (Professor Quirrell was his only suspect for now) was after.

He needed more time to think about this. With the Quidditch match coming up, he didn't have time for any decisive action yet.

When he was putting the book up on the shelf, Hermione found him, and for a change, she looked quite happy. Lelouch commented on it, and she went into a long rant about how Harry and Ron were hanging out with her a lot now.

"I didn't tell them we're meeting, though," she said. "I guess you're right, your housemates wouldn't want you to be friends with a Gryffindor. I'll wait until you're ready."

"Thanks, Hermione," said Lelouch. "I hope it all works out. You need friends in your own house."

"And you don't?"

"There are plenty of people in my house who'd love to be my friend," said Lelouch. "Many of them already think they are."

Hermione nodded slowly, watching him with thoughtful eyes. "You know, you're really something. You're different, but I'm different, too. So's Neville. We get shunned. You on the other hand - people admire you."

That line struck Lelouch as just _wrong._ He knew exactly why people admired him - it was because he only showed them the side he knew they would be pleased by. He had seen, in his dreams that had felt so much like reality, what would happen if people saw the other sides. He knew how all that admiration would turn to hatred.

He couldn't tell Hermione any of that without arousing suspicion, so he didn't. Instead, he forced a smile, and said simply, "I guess I'm just really attractive."

Hermione snorted and cuffed him on the head. She was stronger than she seemed. Lelouch smiled and rubbed the spot. "Deserved that. Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's Harry's Quidditch match," she reminded him. "Maybe the day after that."

"Okay," Lelouch shrugged. "See you then."

* * *

Quidditch day arrived in a shower of banners, colors, cheers and jeers. Harry, pale and a little green, spoke to Lelouch a little before the match.

"Wish you wouldn't have worn Slytherin colors," he said.

"I have to support my house," Lelouch said simply.

Harry sighed. "Okay, yeah, bye."

"Harry?"

He turned back. "What?"

"Good luck," Lelouch told him. "And… I'm sorry."

Harry shrugged. "Alright. I get it, you have to support your team. And thanks, I guess."

He left the Great Hall with the rest of his team. Lelouch made his way to the Slytherin stands.

"Haven't heard a thing about what you're planning," said Draco. "Did you even do anything at all?"

"I will," said Lelouch, showing him the wand he'd hidden up his sleeve.

It seemed like the entire school had come out to watch. Lelouch supposed he could understand to some degree; this was apparently the only recreational activity Hogwarts arranged for its students. Plus, the wizarding community was already incredibly enthusiastic about this sport. Even Draco, despite complaining about the fact that Harry had been chosen for his team and he hadn't been, seemed to be finally feeling the anticipation and was now focusing on the pitch, where the players had just walked out.

The two captains gripped each other's hands in an unseemly but expected display of force, before everyone finally mounted their brooms and flew upwards. Harry took his place far above everyone else, which seemed to be a strategy to keep him out of harm's way for now.

Lelouch raised his binoculars to his eyes. Harry was the only one he needed to watch today. He did spare a few glances for their Seeker, though. Terence Higgs was busy searching for the Snitch. Good. It would be better if he caught it quickly.

It still wouldn't be before his plan needed to be in motion, though… he'd have to put it into place sooner than the snitch could be caught.

He wished Harry wasn't so high up.

The first score of the game came from Gryffindor. The red stand exploded into cheers, and Harry flew into a celebratory loop around the field.

Lelouch waited. This was an opportunity, sure, but not a very good one.

Slytherin scored. Gryffindor also scored. And then, fifteen minutes into the game, the commentator screamed, the crowd roared, and both Harry and Terence went into a sharp dive - the Snitch had been seen.

"Cover me," Lelouch said to Draco, who quickly motioned to Crabbe and Goyle and huddled together, blocking Lelouch from view, who pointed his wand upwards.

"Accio Harry Potter's glasses."

Looking exactly as if it had fallen off in the sharp dive, the spectacles soared downward. Lelouch cancelled the spell before it could curve towards the stands, and the glasses shattered into a million pieces on the ground below. Lelouch pocketed his wand and looked back upwards.

Harry had startled enough to fall about a hundred feet behind the Slytherin Seeker and was now trying to follow Terence, the blurry green object he could see, Lelouch assumed - but he was clearly disoriented, and following the other Seeker would never get him the snitch, which Lelouch was certain Harry could no longer see. He focused his binoculars on the boy's face - it was a picture of panic.

Draco stared at him in awe. "I can't _believe_ you," he whispered. Terence was rushing towards the snitch at a breakneck pace, and Harry, trying to follow the zigzagging path, was falling further and further behind.

Lelouch watched them silently, even as triumphant screaming filled the stands around him and confused shouts rose from the Gryffindor side. It hadn't been too bad. Harry was steady on his broom and even trying to chase after the snitch - it could've been so much worse.

And then, suddenly, _it_ _was._

Harry's broom suddenly bucked, and Harry was forced to try to brake, but the broom wouldn't obey him. It was twitching and jerking, trying to throw the boy off, and there was no doubt- none at all - in Lelouch's mind that this was jinxing. Harry's broom was being controlled.

An internal screaming filled his mind as he realized where this was leading. He occluded immediately, more forcefully than he had ever done, and focused on the teacher's seats. Snape was muttering - the counter, most likely. Quirrell, the likely suspect, was standing on the back row. Lelouch angled his binocular under a professor's arm - he was muttering, too.

Before Lelouch could take action, before he could do anything at all, there was a collective scream from the crowd. Harry had slipped off his broom. With how dizzy he already had to have been from squinting at blurry things, it was no wonder.

Lelouch stared at the figure, frozen. He couldn't do anything. He didn't know any spell that would work. He was useless, powerless to do anything but stare as his scheme spiraled into something straight out of his nightmares.

Before hitting the ground, Harry's momentum slowed noticeably, but the impact was still horrifying. All of the professors, wands out, were rushing to the boy lying unmoving on the ground - the crowd was spilling out onto the field - and the Slytherin team was touching down, the Snitch clutched in Terence's fist.

They had won.

Lelouch had never felt more defeated.

* * *

No one dared speak to him as he walked back to the common room. It was only when he had sat down on the sofa that Draco spoke.

"Did you do that?" his voice was hushed. " _All of that?_ "

"You really think I can?" said Lelouch. He was still occluded, and his tone came out faintly arrogant.

Draco gave him a long look. "Yeah."

"Don't go around telling people those kind of suspicions," said Lelouch, as he felt the familiar smile creep onto his lips. "Of course I didn't try to kill Harry Potter."

His smile said something different.

* * *

Harry had broken his arm, two ribs, and a toe. He had suffered concussion and minor internal bleeding, and would have to be kept in observation for a week.

Lelouch went through the motions expected of him. He visited Harry in the hospital wing and listened to his despair over losing his first match with a perfectly straight face, let Hermione cry on his shoulder, let Ron rant about Professor Snape in front of him(not _to_ him), and let the Slytherins - definitely the first years, and even some of the upper years - treat him with something approaching reverence.

He knew how forbidding Draco to speak of his suspicions would play out, and that was exactly how it had worked. Draco had told the people he knew would take that news positively and had added a 'don't tell anyone', and for the ones who wouldn't take it well - Lelouch had denied the rumors enough times in the Slytherin common room that they could assure themselves that he hadn't done it. But all of them knew about the way he had made Slytherin win, and so when Lelouch spoke to Hermione in plain view, no one seemed to care and simply assumed that their resident strategist had some ulterior motive.

It was on the fourth day since the accident, after Potions class, that Lelouch, planning to visit Harry, was called by Snape. "Stay after class, please, Mr. Lestrange."

The students filed out. Lelouch walked over to Snape. "What's-"

He was cut off when the professor whipped out his wand and pointed it at his face. Lelouch should have probably been worried, but he didn't even blink.

"Why," snarled Snape, "Do I keep hearing from so many Slytherins' minds that you tried to kill Harry Potter?"

Lelouch shrugged. "I denied it every time they asked me. Some people just can't let go of an idea once it enters their brain."

"So you didn't try to kill him?"

"I didn't _try_ , at all," said Lelouch. _Strangely, though, I nearly succeeded._

Snape gripped his wand more tightly. He studied the other's face for a moment, and then - "Legilimens."

The onslaught was… quite something. Lelouch hadn't experienced a mental attack of nearly this magnitude before, but he held on, refusing to crumble. He had been practicing, after all. His shields didn't budge.

Finally, the professor cancelled the spell and lowered his wand, frustration etched onto every line of his face. Lelouch braced a hand against the wall behind him, out of breath. His head was pounding.

"You idiot boy," Snape hissed. "Do you know what would happen if Dumbledore gets a read on any of them?"

Lelouch felt a sudden wave of anger. "Let him," he said. "Go tell him yourself, if you want. He's as much responsible for Harry Potter's condition as anyone."

"Meaning?"

"Let's not pretend, professor. You were trying to counter the jinx on his broom - you know who the instigator was. You know what he's after. And you know that something so coveted by dark wizards does not belong in a school."

Snape had blanched. "How do you know-"

"Irrelevant. The instigator knows. And he'll try again."

Snape's gaze had turned unreadable. "For someone who claims to have tried to kill Potter, you seem to care a lot."

Lelouch met his eyes unflinchingly. "By bringing something so alluring in here, all of you who were involved have compromised the safety of every student in Hogwarts, including mine. If you lot cannot handle this, don't expect me to sit back and watch."

"You're threatening-?"

"No. Threat implies that it's conditional."

For once, Snape seemed to be at a loss for words. Lelouch left him there - he had no time for this. If somehow Dumbledore did decide to move the stone, that would probably be the best outcome. That said, Lelouch wouldn't waste time waiting.

There was a lot of preparation to be done.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm incredibly frustrated right about now, so I'm not responding to reviews. There are a lot of things going on in my life that are really taking me out of my comfort zone, and I'm not coping very well. That said, your comments in the last chapter were amazing. Thank you, you've helped me so much more than you know.

"How is Harry Potter doing?"

The Headmaster's question was enough to draw the attention of everyone present in the staffroom. Pomona set down the multicolored seeds she'd been fussing with, Minerva looked up from the pile of essays in front of her, but neither could compare to Filius, who craned his neck around so fast he lost his balance and fell off his chair.

Madam Pomfrey tutted, even as she bent to help the small professor. "He's recovering well enough, but Weasley and Granger won't let him rest! They're trying to sneak past every time I'm facing the other way."

"I don't see what harm there is in letting the boy enjoy the company of his friends, Poppy," Dumbledore responded mildly.

"Please leave patientcare regime to me, professor," sniffed the matron. "Potter gets enough visitors during regular hours as it is. Even Lestrange has been by three times already! At least that boy has the sense to keep to the visitor hours."

"It's good to see a Slytherin being friends with Gryffindors," said Pomona, with a smile. "I mean, the antagonism we normally see between these houses…"

"Slytherins aren't usually the ones who instigate fights," Severus interrupted.

"No, they usually just taunt the other party until they get angry enough to start flinging hexes," retorted Minerva. "I'm not saying Gryffindors don't have their faults, but you can't deny the gang mentality going on in your house, Severus."

"A gang mentality which now seems to have resulted in the first years accepting Lelouch Lestrange in the lead," observed Dumbledore. Severus gave him a significant look.

"Better him than Draco Malfoy," said Minerva. "So far, I've yet to see Mr. Lestrange get into any sort of trouble, and he's quite well-mannered. He's miles ahead of nearly all of his peers in spellwork, but he hasn't let it go to his head - I've been setting him to work in class helping out his struggling housemates, and he's never complained."

Filius nodded enthusiastically in agreement. "I mean, I've had my doubts at first, after hearing about that wand he got… but Lelouch is a very good influence. I haven't heard first year Slytherins getting into fights with Gryffindors at all this term!"

"I have noticed that, yes," said Dumbledore, nodding. "Severus, would you care to join me for some lemon drop back in my office? In fact, I insist."

That was a ridiculous way of setting up a meeting. Thoroughly annoyed but keeping it under wraps, Severus followed the elderly wizard out of the staff room.

Dumbledore did not speak to him until the two of them were inside the former's office with the door closed. Then he took his seat, offered Severus a chair across from him which was declined, and then said, "Well, Severus?"

"The boy knows about the stone."

Dumbledore's gaze sharpened. "And how did you come by this information?"

"He told me."

"Ah."

"Precisely. 'Ah'." Severus finally took the chair in front of him. He rubbed his forehead once.

"Perhaps he did not know you would tell me," Dumbledore suggested, but it was clear how unlikely he believed it to be.

"He has no reason to think I'll keep his secrets, especially when he didn't even word it as a secret," said Severus. "He wants us to move it out of Hogwarts."

That, strangely, did not have the effect Severus had expected. Far from looking grave, Dumbledore's eyes flashed with something akin to… hope?

"Has he given a reason for this?"

"He believes it a threat to the school populace." After a moment, Severus admitted grudgingly, "I admit that I see his point. Perhaps if you simply remove Quirrell like I keep suggesting-"

"Professor Quirrell has served us for one year before this," said Dumbledore. "We have no proof of any wrongdoing against him."

"He's probably tried to kill Harry Potter! You don't think that's a good enough reason?"

" _Probably_ being the key word, Severus. If it's someone else, all we'll have done is to remove a valuable addition to the staff."

"Surely that risk far outweighs-"

"Professor Quirrell knows about the stone," Dumbledore reminded him. "If I fire him without any reason, he has no reason to keep the secret."

There was a moment of silence. "There is that," Severus allowed finally.

"Is that all, regarding Lelouch?"

Severus hesitated, then eventually said, "There is a word going around that the boy was responsible for…. the incident at the last Quidditch match."

Dumbledore steepled his fingers. His eyes were hard. "I have not heard anything of the sort. Explain."

"You would have, had you paid a little more attention to Slytherins," Severus said bitterly. "My house is extremely tight-lipped when it tries to be."

"How widespread is this rumor?"

"I think I've encountered about a dozen who believe this to be true." After a moment of silence, Severus added, "Or wish it to be true. These are all children of the Dark Lord's sympathizers, if not outright Death Eaters."

"The other Slytherins, have they not heard it, or do they choose not to believe it?"

"The latter, I presume." After realizing how damning that sounded, Severus added, "They do seem very convinced."

"Then that is no more a cause to condemn him than your reasons are to condemn Professor Quirrell," said Dumbledore. "Innocent until proven guilty, Severus."

Severus relaxed marginally. He hadn't been sure if he should have told Dumbledore in the first place, but at least the headmaster didn't seem likely to take action. "There is one other thing."

"Go on."

"He plans to take some form of preventive action regarding the stone."

"And you know this because…?"

"He told me."

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "As in…?"

"Warned me that he would do it unless we did something about the stone beforehand."

To Severus's disbelief, a little smile formed on the headmaster's lips. "I see," he said, softly. "Thank you for telling me, Severus."

"What do you plan to do?" the Potions Master asked, hoping that the other wizard wouldn't respond with 'Nothing'.

"Wait."

Severus barely held back a groan. That was in no way better.

* * *

The weekends had always been Ron's favorite time of the week - when he was little, Dad would stay home and they would crowd around him in the afternoon to listen to his embellished stories about his childhood, time at Hogwarts and afterwards. Now that Ron was at school, he appreciated weekends more than ever, and even then, he couldn't remember any he had looked forward to more than this one.

Saturday morning, he accidentally slept in, found Hermione already waiting for him, and after hurriedly shoving down some food, the two of them rushed off to the hospital wing. Harry had to be bored out of his mind.

Fortunately, it turned out that Harry was still sleeping. To amuse themselves, Ron pulled out the chess set he had grabbed on the way and started a match with Hermione. She was better than Harry, but not by much because she couldn't bear to sacrifice any of her pieces.

Harry woke up at the sounds of chess pieces screaming. "They sound pretty mad at you," he told Hermione, rubbing his eyes.

"That's because they saw this coming," said Ron, moving his queen directly in front of Hermione's king, covered by a rook. "Checkmate."

She scowled as her king threw down its crown. "Maybe you ought to try," she told Harry.

A sleepy Harry playing chess would be even more of a disaster than he already was, so after giving it some thought, Harry shook his head, and Ron was actually kind of relieved.

They passed some time talking about random things, carefully skirting around the topic of the match between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw which was going to take place today. The three of them would probably be the only ones not attending. Talking about Quidditch in front of Harry was not a good idea right now.

After Harry had some breakfast, the topic shifted to Hagrid and what he had said when he had visited Harry.

"I've been looking up Nicholas Flamel in the library," said Hermione. "No mention of him so far… maybe what Snape's looking for is so dangerous that they don't keep books on it in the regular section."

"I've been looking, too," Ron reminded her. "You can help from tomorrow, Harry… Madam Pomfrey said she'll discharge you first thing tomorrow."

"Great," said Harry. This seemed to have cheered him up. "Fancy a game, Ron?"

"Sure," said Ron, and rotated the board so that the white pieces were on Harry's side.

Five minutes, a knight, a rook, two pawns and the queen later, Harry was looking noticeably less happy.

"We can start over if you want," said Ron. Harry was hopeless without a queen.

"I guess," said Harry, grumpily, and moved to put his white king back to its starting position.

"Mind if I try?"

Ron's mood immediately soured. It was Lestrange, standing at the door with his hands in his pockets and that smug little smile on his face. Harry gave him a lot of grief for not being able to stand Lestrange after he had acted all friendly on the train, but he was pretty sure this arrogant expression hadn't been there then. He honestly didn't know how Harry and Hermione could be friends with that guy when that face made Ron want to punch him on the nose.

Although, what he said… this could be a chance to wipe that look off his face.

"Sure, let me just put these back," said Harry.

"No. Leave them."

Ron couldn't prevent his eyes from bugging out. The nerve of this guy!

"I'm just going to assume you can't see the board from there," Harry said flatly. Lestrange snorted.

"No, really, it's fine. I've been watching you two play for a minute now."

Of course. That wasn't all sorts of weird!

"No," said Ron. "I don't want to give you a reason to whine after you've-"

"If you win, I'll make sure Snape gives Draco detention for a week."

Harry and Hermione gasped.

Ron stared. "You're serious."

"Deadly so."

Slowly, he felt a grin creep up on his face. "Throw yourself in too and you've got a deal."

"Fine." Points where points was due… Lestrange hadn't even batted an eye. "But if I win, you are going to tell me what you and Hermione were doing all week in the library."

That was enough to give him a little pause. "Ron." Hermione warned.

Ron ignored her. "Deal."

Lestrange did that infuriating smirking thing again, but Ron didn't care. He wouldn't be doing that for long.

The guy started with the white king. He got an earful for that from the piece itself, but didn't seem to care.

A few minutes later, his bishop was taken.

Another couple of minutes later, Ron suffered his first check, made by the knight with the king cutting off the escape route. It was rather hard to get out of it, and by the time he'd untangled himself, a neat little trap had been sprung that resulted in his queen being taken.

Four minutes later, a pawn made its way across the board.

"Which piece do you want?"

"The white queen."

"Okay."

Three minutes later:

"The black queen, please."

And then, about twenty minutes after the game had started, a crown came to rest at the foot of the black queen.

"I… can't believe it," Hermione said faintly.

"How'd things even get to this point?" said Harry.

"The turning point," said Ron, slowly. "Was the knight check thing that got him the first queen. Before that, I was winning." He turned to Lestrange. "Where the _hell_ did you learn to play like that?"

"Practice."

"Hang on," said Hermione. "You didn't actually need that second queen."

"I did," said Lestrange, shaking his head. "I had to sacrifice my remaining rook to get it, remember? I could've asked for it back with that pawn, I suppose, but why take a roundabout way when you can finish the game much faster? The longer a game goes on, the more chances of mistakes. Even if you have to make some sacrifices… in the end it's worth it."

Ron had to admit that was true. "You practiced at the orphanage?" he prodded.

"Not really. I played a lot of professionals, though," said Lestrange. "They have chess tournaments in the muggle world. Ratings, rankings, world championships."

"So you… you're a chess champion? You play competitively?"

"Of a sort," Lestrange said cryptically. "Ron, you have actual potential. If you stop wasting time with people who can't make it beyond a high-school tournament-"

"Hey!" Harry protested, while Hermione flushed.

"-you'll be surprised at how far you can go."

Ron blinked at the other boy. That was not a very flattering way of giving a compliment, and yet it made him feel all excited. It was weird. "You want to go again?"

"We can play every weekend," Lestrange told him. "Library's pretty empty at that time. Speaking of which-"

The three of them exchanged looks. "I guess it can't hurt," said Harry, slowly. "We've been looking up Nicholas Flamel."

Ron had to give Harry points for not mentioning anything familiar. Lestrange's face was blank. So he hadn't heard of the name… Ron didn't know if it was good or bad. "Why?"

"Um… we've heard he's a really good… wizard."

"What'd he do?"

Harry and Ron looked to Hermione for help, who shook her head. "We have to tell him, Harry."

Ron frowned. "We can't!" he snapped at Hermione.

"That wasn't the deal," said Lestrange.

"Yeah, like you could've actually made Snape-"

"I've got Dungbombs."

"Ooh," said Ron, wincing. That would've probably done it, but the guts that would take…

Of course, he could just be lying.

"Nicholas Flamel's got something to do with the third-floor corridor," said Hermione, in a rush. Lestrange turned towards her.

"You've been there?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah."

They eyed one another. "There's a huge dog there," Harry said cautiously, testing.

"With three heads, guarding a door," said Lestrange, and simultaneously, they all relaxed.

"Have you found anything about it?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, it's guarding a philosopher's stone."

"It's guarding a _what?!_ "

Hermione sounded awed, the other two just confused. "What?" Harry said again.

Lestrange didn't seem inclined to explain. "I'll leave you to it, Hermione," he said, getting to his feet. "I told Draco I'd teach him the Leg-Locker curse. See you tomorrow, Ron."

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, putting the finishing touches to a letter.

One could argue that this letter was long overdue, but he hadn't been sure if penning it would be a good idea. Even now, he had his doubts.

Lelouch Lestrange had been an unknown entity for a very long time, but even then Albus had been plagued by his mind constantly drawing parallels between the boy's situation and Tom Riddle's. Neither had been born out of love between their parents - he did not believe Bellatrix any more capable of love than the influence of a love potion was - and both had grown up in muggle orphanages, hidden from the wizarding world. It could be that none of these were relevant and his mind was simply jumping to conclusions, but after living for over a century, Albus knew better than to ignore his instincts.

He had not handled Tom Riddle's situation correctly, and he had not trusted himself with Lelouch Lestrange. Sending Minerva, the most impartial professor at Hogwarts, had seemed like the best course of action.

And then Minerva had come back with a very good impression of the boy, so much so that she had nearly forgotten to tell Albus that the child had actually been out past midnight.

Intelligent. Charismatic. Possibly manipulative.

Severus had been the obvious choice after that. And then…

There had been so many alarming signs that both of them had agreed not to speak to the staff of anything more than necessary. The only problem the other professors knew of was the wand; it had been a topic of curiosity after Harry's had turned out to be a twin of Lord Voldemort's.

And how curious it was, that Lelouch Lestrange's wand was similar to the Dark Lord in everything but the core, and Harry Potter's was the exact opposite.

He had been so very relieved that Harry had not found his place in a house that bred pure-blood prejudice, but Lelouch Lestrange had, and it worried him. Not just for the boy, but also for Harry Potter, because the two children seemed to be more than just casual acquaintances.

It reminded him of another two bright eyed young boys. One ambitious, charismatic, the other eager, easily swayed. Together, they had once planned to take over the world.

Neither had been innocent. Neither had been born evil.

And now, the matter of the stone. A glimmer of hope, a glimpse of something good in the boy. He had solved the puzzle, but he had not tried to take the stone. He was not after power. Albus did not know what he was after.

That frustrated him in a way he had rarely experienced. Lelouch Lestrange was clearly on a mission; he had been rallying the Slytherins to him, but not befriending them. He had been gaining influence, but yet to use it for anything Albus had seen.

Strangely, the boy spent a lot of time alone, and the only persons he seemed to enjoy being around occasionally were not Slytherins. Harry Potter. Gryffindor's golden boy. Hermione Granger. A Muggleborn.

Lelouch Lestrange was a study in contradictions.

There was only one even remotely probable conclusion Albus could draw: not about his objective, but about his personality. Like the boy himself, it was hard to tell if it was a good thing… or just alarming.

_He's on a mission that he doesn't want to do, but believes that he needs to._

He signed his name at the bottom of the letter before tapping the parchment with his wand. The ink dried instantly, and he carefully sealed it in an envelope and gently tied it to the leg of the owl sitting obediently on the desk. With a gentle carass of its feathers and a treat for the long road, he carried it to the window and watched it take off.


End file.
